


The Once And Future King

by KaenOkami



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Soldiers, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not fully recovered Azula, Paranoia, Sibling Incest, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For eighteen years, Prince Aziru, son of Azula, is raised to feel nothing but burning hatred for his family of traitors, and to win back his mother's throne and his own birthright at any cost. He is trained to fight for the day he dethrones Fire Lord Zuko - the day he kills his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Azula's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> The lines at the beginning of each chapter are from "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale. I was listening to it, and thought it sounded like the kind of thing Azula would sing to her kid, and then all this happened.

>   
>  _Hush, child, darkness will rise from the deep, and carry you down into sleep, child..._   
> 

He is one, and right now his mother's arms are his whole world. She gently cradles Aziru to her chest, murmuring a lullaby into his ear. Her son and heir - the only child she has and will ever have - will always be treated more carefully than anything else. Though he can't yet understand the words or the meaning behind them, her song makes him feel safe, and he sinks into sleep before she's finished. 


	2. Just Like Mother

_Darkness will rise from the deep, and carry you down into sleep._

He is two, and he watches with wide, amazed eyes as she calls up her blue fire, glowing brighter than usual in the twilight. Moving her fingers deftly, she shapes the flames into a brilliant azure dragon, that twists, arcs, and rolls in her expert hands. She's let Aziru watch her soldiers train before - never further than a few steps from her side, though - but this is the first time she's shown him _her_ bending. 

Excited and eager to emulate his mother, Aziru cups his hands like hers, expecting flames to burst into being there too...only to be disappointed when none came. Tears start to well up in his eyes, but Mother extinguishes her fire, and leans closer to gently cup his cheek. 

“It’s all right. Don’t get upset,” she soothes. “Before long, you’ll be able to do it too.” 

“Like Mama?” 

She smiles at him. “That’s right. Just like Mama.”


	3. The Enemy

_Guileless son, I'll shape your belief..._

He is three, listening, as captivated as if it's his first time hearing it, to her stories of the world war from ten years ago. It’s much bigger than the civil war raging in the Fire Nation now between his mother and his uncle, and Aziru finds it to be much more exciting too. She tells of great battles like the Day of Black Sun, where she effortlessly crushed her opponents; of how she conquered Ba Sing Se, which no army had been able to do in a hundred years of war, in three days just by her own cleverness; of the Day of the Comet, when victory, one last glorious victory, had been in the nation's grasp...only to be snatched away by the traitor Zuko, the prejudiced Avatar, and their peasant allies.

"Because of them, everything was ruined," Mother says, venom coming into her voice. "And it's getting worse every day. As you grow up, Aziru, you'll see for yourself how they have hurt our nation. They are the enemies of the world. If we do not act, then before long it will be too late to stop them and reverse what they've done."

Aziru does not know what she means by this yet, or what exactly they have to do. But at his young age, he comprehends her message at its most basic: Zuko and everyone who works with him are the bad people, and his mother and everyone under her are the good ones. He understands _that_ perfectly.


	4. The Traitor's Tale

_...And you'll always know that your father's a thief._

He is four, and he is looking at the face of his father for the first time. He doesn't know it, of course: to Aziru, it is only the face of his treacherous uncle, the man he has to kill.

"My worthless older brother," Mother tells him, running one sharp-nailed finger down the side of the portrait. "Traitor Zuko. He does not deserve to be called Fire Lord."

Aziru nods agreement (he has no reason to doubt her) and scrutinizes the dark, finely drawn ink lines of Zuko's face. His uncle looks up at him from the scroll with a forbidding expression. Even without too much detail, the muscles of his face look tensed, he is unsmiling, and his good eye is as narrowed as the one seared shut. It's the scar on the man's right eye that draws Aziru's attention. "Where'd that come from?"

"Ozai." She never says his grandfather's name without a considerable amount of bitterness put into the word. “When Zuko was younger, he disrespected him during a war meeting, and as punishment, Ozai declared that he would fight him in Agni Kai. But for all his bravado, Zuko is a cowardly weakling at his core. He refused to fight, and got on all fours on the ground, crying and begging for mercy. Because he would not fight back, Ozai was able to burn his face to teach him a lesson."

Aziru looks up at her, wide-eyed. That could _happen?_ "But you _can't_ just say no," he protests. "You have to fight it. It's about honor, right? Doesn't he care about that?"

Mother gives a short, mirthless laugh. "Zuko will go on and on like you wouldn’t believe about how important honor is to him, but his actions say something else entirely. He disrespected our traditions, betrayed our nation, stole the throne, threw his own sister in an asylum to rot, and offered up our people to the other nations to do with as they please. Honor means nothing to a traitor like him, Aziru."

It makes sense to him, though he wonders what is important to a man like that, who's clearly shown that so many things - honor, justice, the ties of blood - are meaningless to him. He can't understand why his uncle would do all those things. For power, maybe? He voices his guess to Mother, and she shakes her head.

"The very first thing he did after taking the throne was to surrender to the other nations. He knew that they'd take every opportunity to weaken and restrict the Fire Nation, which they did as quickly as possible. No, he wasn't after power; if you intend to use a sword, you don't break it first. It just doesn't make sense. The only logical answers I can think of is that he did all this just to spite us, or out of petty revenge for being punished by our father. He always _was_ an entitled little brat."

Aziru is stunned. That can't be right...but then again, he can't think of an explanation himself, and Mother would know her brother better than most people. At that point, she takes the scroll back. She holds it at arm's length between two fingers, over a waste bin. 

"He was always so spoiled and soft," she says almost to herself, narrowing her eyes at her brother's face. The acrid scent of burning ink and paper fills the room as blue flames crawl over it. "The only reason the people still in his territory haven't revolted against him yet is that he's protected by the Avatar. But we'll take care of that in good time." 

The scroll burns away completely, and Mother shakes its ashes off her hand and turns to leave the room, signifying that they are done here. But Aziru has one more thing to ask her. 

"Mama, wait a second!" She stops and turns her head to look at him. "Your dad challenged Zuko to an Agni Kai, and hurt him...Would you ever do that to me?"

"Would you ever disrespect me, Aziru?"

"No," he says, shaking his head.

"Well, then..." Her lips curve up into a smile. "Why would I ever do a thing like that?"


	5. Let You Down

_And you won't understand the cause of your grief..._

He is five, and even though he cannot yet bend, Aziru is training hard. 

Though his shirt is stuck to him with sweat and every muscle in his body screams for mercy, the young prince forces his exhausted body to move just as fast and as forcefully as he had at the beginning of the practice session, to respond immediately to each and every one of his mother's sharp commands. _Archer stance, straight punch, reverse punch, cat stance, front kick, middle palm block, reverse punch, front kick -_

"Enough."

Aziru's not done yet - he knows it's nowhere _near_ enough - but he stops mid-kick the instant Mother says it. He returns to natural stance, turns his head to her, and he feels everything inside him crumble to nothing at the disappointment in her eyes as she looks at him. Oh, no...What did he do wrong?

But she won't say. She masks her feelings as she always does, with her face impassive and voice flat and level as she tells him, "That's enough for today. Go back to your room and study the forms more carefully." 

"Are...Are you coming with me?" His voice is weak from exertion, and though he can't stand the silence that tells him he's let her down again, he wants her with him on the long walk home. Maybe he didn't mess _everything_ up, and she'll have at least one word of praise for him. 

"No - " Aziru fights not to let his body sag or let sadness show on his face, he can't make Mother feel bad like that - "I'm going to stay here for a little while. You get back home and I'll be there soon."

She turns away from him to gaze at the view from the edge of the wide cliff, out over the ocean turned golden by the setting sun. The deep reddish-black outlines of the other Fire Nation islands (some of them under his mother's control, some under his uncle's) are visible on the horizon. Aziru wants to protest, but he know it won't do any good, and he despondently starts to make his way down the rocky path that will take him back home. He's almost out of earshot when he hears it: "Unbelievable." 

He freezes in his tracks, feeling like the one little word has knocked the wind out of him. Slowly, he turns back and takes a few steps back up the path until he can see Mother, still looking out at the islands on the horizon with narrowed eyes. Is she talking to herself again?

"Unbelievable," she hisses, "that you can do this to me from an ocean away, without even meaning to. I thought the strength of our blood would overpower your personal weaknesses, but clearly a few have slipped into him. Was everything else not enough, that you have to rob me of a powerful heir? You torment me from the other side of the nation, with your child."

Oh...She's not talking about him. Aziru, taken aback by the realization, sucks in a gasp. Mother _never_ talks about his father; this is the first time he's heard her mention him at all. But just then she stops talking, and she looks suddenly tense and alert. He realizes she heard him exactly one second before she turns and sees him standing there.

Her eyes widen and her lips fall open in surprise. He's in for it now, he knows, he should never have been listening in on her. Aziru is frozen like a rabbit-newt facing a hunter's arrow, but Mother is looking at him like she's the one caught in wrongdoing. 

"Aziru..." she breathes. "You heard...?"

He gives a shaky nod, and sees something unfamiliar flash in her eyes. She takes a step forward, and he flinches back in spite of himself. "Aziru..." she repeats, softer than before. "Aziru, I...I didn't..."

Aziru's nerve breaks, and he whips around and sprints down the path. Mother is disappointed in him. With his weakness he's let her down, like everyone else in her life. 

Behind him, Mother cries out, "Aziru, I didn't mean it! _Aziru!"_

 _Does she mean that?_ he wonders as he keeps running. He knows he'll be punished, but he doesn't care, he can't stay near her right now. Before long, he's back in his room at the palace; Mother didn't follow him and he's too exhausted to wonder why. Normally, he studies firebending forms eagerly, thirsty for knowledge, but tonight he does so mechanically, feeling like he wouldn’t be doing it at all if not told to.

It doesn't occur to him to go to bed, and he's on his bed poring over a scroll with heavy eyelids in the middle of the night when Mother comes in, and tells him that he can stop, he should sleep.

She helps him clear his scrolls and books away and gets him settled in bed. Gently rubbing his back, she promises him that of course she what she'd said before wasn't right, she'd just been a little frustrated and said something she didn't mean, that was all, and he was really doing very well in training for his age, so he shouldn't think anything of it. His mother was very proud of him and that's what he should always think about.

But though Aziru knows she means it _(does she does she really),_ he can hear a quiet underlying desperation in her voice that he doesn't understand. Is she trying so hard to convince him that what she says is true, or...trying to convince herself?

Mother stays with him until she's sure he's fallen fast asleep, and she leaves without a sound. Left alone in the dark, he opens his eyes. Now he _knows_ something's really bothering her: faking sleep has never come close to working on her before. After about another half hour of lying awake (it always takes Mother a long time to turn off her thoughts and fall asleep herself), he hops out of bed and slips silently down the hall, making sure to avoid all the floorboards that creak. 

Aziru moves like a small shadow through the halls of the palace. That's what Mother calls it, but he knows it is a poor imitation of the true Royal Palace on the other side of the nation. All this place is, is a glorified fortress. He is young, but he knows his home well enough to be able to steer clear of the guards and servants still active at night, and he is able to make his way down to one of the less-used training courts.

He does not know for sure what's on his mother's mind, but he is absolutely certain that it's to do with him at least in part. He has disappointed Mother with his failures, just like his father (whoever the man was) before him. He is determined that it will never happen again if he can help it. Standing in the center of the training court, he takes a deep breath and drops into the first stance. For the next few hours, he trains, and trains, and trains, forgetting everything else.


	6. Connections

_...But you'll always follow the voices beneath._

He is six, and his mother is taking him to see the tigerwolves. As they walk across the open fields beside the massive enclosure, she doesn't hold his hand, but keeps him as close as she can, guiding him back to her side with a hand around his shoulder if he moves too far away for her liking. As hyper as Aziru is, he keeps running ahead of her, and so this happens about once a minute. He can’t help it - he’s _trying_ to behave, but he’s just so excited! This time, he’s not going to the tigerwolf pack just to look: Today, he’ll be getting his own pup.

“It isn’t just a pet,” Mother told him before they left. “It will be your companion for now, true, but when you both grow up it will be your partner in battle.”

Aziru has watched Mother and soldiers training with their tigerwolf partners (she does it better than the rest of them, of course), and has eagerly anticipated the day he will pair with one of his own. One day, he imagines, he will ride at his mother’s right side and fight beside her, her loyal warrior. And speaking of those...

He hears Hashira before he sees her. “My lord!”

The huge slate-gray tigerwolf - Toritsuku, her name is - lopes up to Mother's side before they can even turn towards the voice, and its armored rider pulls it up short beside them, walking at their pace.

“Good morning, General," Mother greets her. It's so weird to hear pleasantries from her, and genuine ones at that. Barring Aziru, High General Hashira Taiyang is the only one who gets them regularly. However, Aziru thinks that if anyone else deserves it, it's her. "What is it?"

"Mikuru was paired with her tigerwolf yesterday." Hashira takes one hand off the reins to indicate her young daughter behind her on the saddle, her small arms wrapped around her mother's waist and her wide gray eyes focused on Aziru. He smiles at her, and Mikuru shyly smiles back. He's still not sure exactly what Mother and Hashira are to each other, but he's certain that he and Mikuru are friends. They've known each other as long as they can remember, practically since they were born, their mothers told them, and she's always fun to play with. Mother calls her “flighty” (out of earshot of Hashira, of course), but Aziru thinks she’s quick and smart, certainly not as dull as the other nobles' and military higher-ups' children. He hasn't met any of _them_ that he likes yet, though it isn't as if he's trying too hard in that area, despite Mother’s admonitions about befriending potential enemies and allies alike. 

Hashira continues, "As Prince Aziru will be paired this morning, I wanted to know if you would like me to begin his training with his partner today. He and Mikuru can start together."

"What's your wolf's name, Miki?" Aziru asks as Mother considers it.

"Shin'yuu," she chirps. "I love him already, he's so cute and so fast! What'll you name yours?"

"I...I'm not sure yet," he admits. "I guess I'll figure one out when I see them."

By now, Mother has made up her mind. "Your offer is appreciated, General, but I won't be needing your help today. I'll be taking charge of this aspect of Aziru's training as well. Though if I do need you at some point, I'll be certain to let you know."

"Thank you, my lord," Hashira says with a bow of her head. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"In addition to all your duties? No, you have enough to contend with. However...” A small smile comes onto her face, the one only Hashira receives and that Aziru can never understand. “I would like to see you in my quarters when both of us retire for the night.”

One corner of Hashira's mouth curves up into a similar smile. "Whatever pleases milord," she agrees, and Aziru once again wonders what the inside joke is. "I will see you tonight then. Enjoy your training, Prince Aziru," she adds, nodding to him. "Let's go, Mikuru." 

She squeezes Toritsuku's flanks with her heels and the tigerwolf gallops away, Mikuru waving from the saddle. "Bye, Aziru!"

"We can play with our wolves later, Miki!" Aziru calls, waving back as they disappeared into the distance, back the way they came. He looks up at Mother. "I can train with her and Shin'yuu _sometimes,_ right?"

"Mm, perhaps," she replies dismissively. "You know I am the only one who's allowed to train you, and I think my methods would be just a little bit too harsh for the girl to handle. Best to leave her to General Taiyang, and you to me." There's less annoyance in her tone than there would be normally, and he suspects that it has something to do with seeing and talking to Hashira (the brevity of the conversation notwithstanding). 

From where they are, it isn’t much longer of a walk to the tigerwolf enclosure. The warm and grassy home of their army’s prized war beasts, painstakingly cultivated to provide the ideal habitat for them, takes up a quarter of the island. Privately, Aziru thinks that ever since being given a tigerwolf of her own and taking a liking to him, his mother’s had a soft spot for them. The keepers are within sight, ensuring that most of the pack stays a safe distance from the Fire Lord and her son, but know to stay out of their way as long as everything is going smoothly. There are only two wolves that they are concerned with right now and Mother is perfectly capable of handling them herself. Aziru leans against the lowest of the thick fence rails, head resting on crossed arms, while she pushes open the heavy wooden gate. 

“Ikari!” she barks, in the military commander’s voice he’s coming to know well. “Ikari, here!”

Aziru follows her gaze to the trees bordering this small patch of grass, and watches as a large dark shape immediately detaches itself from the shadows and emerges into the light, dashing across the clearing. The alpha tigerwolf has likely been skulking around here all morning, waiting for his mistress to come, and he's through the gate and at her side in a second, rubbing his head (the size of her torso) against her arm. It makes Aziru giggle - Ikari is so big that Mother only comes up to his shoulder blades, and he’s acting like a little squirrel-kitten with his request for her affection.

"Hello to you, too," Mother says, obliging the tigerwolf with a quick scratch behind his pointy ears before retracting her hand. “Now, you know today isn’t for us. Go get your pup,” she commands him, the last three words louder and clearly emphasized. He picks up his head, ears pricked, and while his enthusiasm is still present, the playfulness is gone (it's never there for more than a moment anyway) and he listens intently to his mistress. "Get your pup, Ikari!"

Giving a quick bark of agreement, Ikari wheels around, his long claws tearing up the grass and dirt, and darts back to the trees. He reaches down to pick something up in his long jaws, with a delicate care that surprises Aziru, who has seen those same jaws tear the heads off of countless animals sent into the enclosure for hunting practice. The pup that Ikari lifts from the foliage and carries over to them is smaller than he thought it would be, but then, he reasons, it’s probably just younger than the pups he’s seen before. The younger they are, the more smoothly they’ll bond with their human partner. 

Mother points downward, and Ikari gently sets his pup down at Aziru’s feet and moves to sit at his mistress’ side, looking as much like a soldier at attention as a tigerwolf can as he watches them. Aziru doesn’t pay attention to them - for now, he only has eyes for the little ball of silvery-white fluff pawing at his shins, its big green eyes begging for attention. He kneels to get a better look, and the pup immediately jumps up onto him, licking eagerly at his face. “Mother, he likes me!” he laughs, trying to move his head away from the small pink tongue enough to get the words out.

“I see that.” Mother’s tone is amused, and Ikari thumps his tail on the ground in agreement. “I chose the best of Ikari’s litter for you. You two will get along well.”

“I hope so.” Aziru pets the pup’s soft, furry head. Already, his mind is racing with thoughts of what great partners they’ll be, just like his mother and the pup’s sire. Coming to that, he can’t keep calling him ‘the pup.’ He turns to Mother. “What should his name be?”

“Well, he’s yours now, so that’s all up to you,” she tells him. “But if I were you, I’d give him the name you think he should fit. What do _you_ want him to be for you?”

Aziru looks down at the pup again, silent in thought. That’s right, he remembers, soldiers traditionally name their new partners for the traits they want most in them, believing that they’ll live up to their names. What does he want most in this pup, in the future? Loyalty is a given as long as the master treats his wolf properly, and he fully intends to do that, so no need for a name to ensure that. Intelligence? No, even if tigerwolves weren’t naturally intelligent, he’s the one who really needs a sharp mind in this partnership. Strength? Yes, of course. They’ll be warriors one day, both of them, and superior strength what his partner will need most. Just like that, he knows the perfect thing to call this pup.

“Raiden,” he says, running his fingers through his fur. “I’m naming him Raiden.” 

Raiden: _thunder and lightning_ , huge and impressive, faster than anything, quick and strong and deadly. The ideal name for an ideal partner. Mother smiles approvingly. “Very nice. Give it time and you’ll be as good a pair as Ikari and I. Right, Ikari?” she adds, turning to her wolf. He looks at her expressionlessly for a moment, and then as if in answer, he leans forward and runs his long wide tongue over her face, from jawline to forehead. The affectionate lick wipes the smile off her face, and while Aziru clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, she glares at her partner. “You are a disgusting animal, do you know that? Disgusting,” she deadpans, pulling a cloth out of her pocket and rubbing off her face. Ikari’s face is as blank as ever, but Aziru still gets the sense that the wolf knows exactly what he just did. 

As amusing as that was, Aziru’s more interested in his own partnership than theirs. “Ah...So are we going to start training with him today?” 

“Yes, the sooner, the better,” Mother says. “We’ll go to the practice fields right now. Come along.” She turns on her heel and starts off, with Ikari following at her side and easily matching her pace. 

“Come on, Raiden, let’s go!” Aziru says, and when he darts off after them, Raiden runs beside him, as fast as his short legs will carry him. He knows that the little wolf’s not responding to him or the use of his name, and most likely is only going after his father, but that’ll change soon enough. It’s not a long trip at all to the nearest field, which is empty for them as per Mother’s orders. The wide expanse of short golden grass looks mostly the same as it always has to Aziru, with one small exception.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to a dark, polished wooden chest placed beside the open gate. 

“It’s full of the things I used to train Ikari,” Mother informs him. “I had it brought here so I could start you and Raiden off right. I think I’ll begin by showing you how to teach your wolf to respond how you want to a certain scent.” 

Going over and opening the chest, she draws out a large piece of gold and scarlet cloth - a man’s nightshirt, Aziru recognizes with confusion - and holds it in front of Ikari’s snout. Almost immediately, the tigerwolf’s hackles raise, and his lips pull back to bare a mouthful of knifelike teeth. A harsh growl comes up from his throat as he takes in whoever’s scent is on the fabric, and Mother smiles. “Good boy, Ikari, very good,” she praises him, and then turns to Aziru. “It belongs to Zuko. Well, it _did_ , but I’m certain he hasn’t missed it.”

“How did you get that?” Aziru asks, thoroughly confused, while Raiden hides behind his legs, quivering at his father’s sudden anger. 

“I have my ways,” is her ambiguous reply as she lowers the shirt. Ikari calms, but eyes it distrustfully. “In any case, things like this are quite useful. With the proper procedures, you can make a tigerwolf learn to associate certain scents with things they despise, and so recognize them as a threat. They can even be taught to kill anything with a certain scent on sight. Or scent, to be more accurate.”

“So if Uncle Zuko were to show up here right now, Ikari would recognize his scent and attack him?”

“That’s right. He’d tear that traitor’s throat right out,” Mother says brightly, her smile widening. “Him I’ve trained specially to recognize Zuko and his family, since there’s not enough samples from them to use with every tigerwolf. However, there’s plenty of samples from his soldiers to go around, so all our wolves know what to do with them. But you’re a special case, so we’re going to start by teaching little Raiden your uncle’s scent.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Aziru looks down at Raiden, reaching down to scratch the pup’s ears again. “You hear that, buddy? Uncle’s not going to know what hit him!” Raiden gives a cheerful yip, his fear forgotten now that Ikari no longer looks murderous, and licks Aziru’s hand. 

Mother looks pleased at their enthusiasm. “Well, since you’re so eager, let’s get started.”

~0~

His nocturnal training sessions have become a nightly occurrence. He'd never intended it, but however long he practiced with his mother, it never felt like enough time, so each night he keeps at it until he feels it's enough. It must be enough. It must be _perfect_. If it's not, he can never be strong.

Mother has not told him any of this. She tells him (over and over, why isn't he understanding) that if he works hard enough, he can become as strong as he needs to be. She tells him that their sessions together are plenty of time each day, especially if he trains on his own time each day as well. She tells him that he is doing satisfactorily as it is, even if there are still numerous rough edges that desperately need smoothing out. 

But that isn't what Aziru wants.

He doesn't want _satisfactory_ , like a disappointment. He wants _excellent, admirable, flawless,_ like his mother. When he watches her train from the sidelines, she does not settle for merely adequate. No matter how long it takes, no matter how many repetitions, no matter how exhausted she becomes, she keeps going until everything she does is absolutely perfect. With her, it’s not limited to training but extends to every part of her life (that’s just how she is, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen her let her guard down) and if he wants to be like her, then he should start doing the same. 

By now, Aziru has been able to firebend for a couple months. At his age, Hashira had pointed out when he brought it up, he isn’t _that_ much of a late bloomer, and he knows she’s right. Still, he feels as if he’s got a lot of lost time to be making up, which only lengthens these nighttime sessions. Of course, this in turn only makes them more exhausting. He's finding it harder and harder to get enough sleep, and to stay awake and retain enough energy to function properly during the day. No way is Aziru going to cut down on his training - he can't afford to do that, not when he has so much to get done - so he's still trying to figure out a different solution. Drinking more black tea between his meals had come to mind, but then, he reasoned, he'd be dealing with the inevitable crash once the buzz of energy faded. Maybe he could try yerba mate...He makes a mental note to ask Hashira about it tomorrow.

Tonight he's working on a few different forms. Mother had told him that he'd done them fairly well, but then had pointed out certain steps in each he'd done wrong, gotten mixed up, or outright forgotten, and these have to be corrected. The sooner he can do all the basics right, the sooner Mother will teach him more advanced kata. His movements are slowing, his muscles ache and burn, and the training court is starting to become oddly hazy before him, but he has to keep at it, he'll get this right with just a few more tries, just a few more...

Aziru returns to defense stance, inhaling and exhaling deeply, and then begins. His limbs and eyelids feel heavy, as if they're made of lead, weighing him down, but he practically knows this form by heart at this point. It shouldn't be hard, not at all. Sidestep left, two-handed block, front kick, reverse punch, shoulder slam -

When he throws his body forward, his head spins and the room disappears into a dull-reddish blur. His body suddenly feels very weak, and instead of stopping to finish the form, he can't keep himself from pitching forward and crashing to the smooth stone floor. A dismayed whimper escapes him at the pain, and he tries to pull himself back up to his feet, but his worn and weary body just won't obey him. He can't even lift his head, let alone get his whole self up. 

But then again, this doesn't feel all _that_ bad. He's trained for quite a while, so surely he could stay here for a while, and just rest and get back to it in a little bit. Rest would be nice. _Yeah_ , he thinks as his eyes close on their own, _so nice..._

Through the thick haze of near-sleep, Aziru thinks he can hear the steady _click, click, click_ of metal on stone, a little louder with each one. He vaguely wonders what it is before the thought vanishes from his mind. Then there's the wholly strange and unfamiliar feeling of being weightless, and (he thinks) moving too. Some tiny voice in the back of Aziru's mind tells him that he should wake up and find out what's going on, but it’s quickly smothered. Something soft and tight is wrapped around him, and he’s all of a sudden quite comfortably warm. This feels right and safe...He allows himself to fall deeper into sleep. 

“So I suppose I’ll have to talk to you about this in the morning, won’t I?” 

_That_ rouses him: he knows that voice. He forces his eyelids to open a fraction to see the face above him. "M...Mother...?"

"Or not." She's smiling. "I have to say, I didn't think you'd last this long. I'm actually quite impressed."

"Wha..." He gets the feeling he should be saying something more intelligent, but drowsiness slows his speech and it's the only way he can express his confusion. He practiced for only a little while and then practically passed out on the floor. Why does she look so pleased with him?

"I thought you'd give up after just a few nights. Sooner or later, I assumed you'd decide that the extra work was too much and not worth the effort. You can imagine what a pleasant surprise it was to see you keeping at it for as long as you have. A whole year, and you hardly skipped a night."

He doesn't understand. He's been doing this in secret, hasn't he? "How'd you know?" he murmurs.

"You really thought no one would find out, didn't you?" she says, light and amused. "I've been watching you train every night since you started. You should know by now you can't keep secrets from me."

His eyes widen. _Every night?_ How did he never notice? "How'd you know?" he repeats.

She hesitates, and an odd look comes into her eyes. Her hold on him tightens. "...I've been checking on you at night. Two or three times a night...since you were born, in fact."

Well, there's a surprise. Did he really sleep so soundly that he'd had no idea? Aziru's head tilts to one side. "Why?"

"Well...One can never be too cautious, can they?" she says, in a failed attempt at a flippant tone. "I can't have anything happening to you. By the way, thank you for the near heart attack you gave me that first night, when I went into your room and you were _gone," ___she admonishes him, eyes narrowing. "The only reason I knew you were all right was that you left the door wide open. If anyone had actually taken you, they'd be a complete idiot to make a mistake like that."

Aziru, startled, doesn't know how to respond to that. Returning to the original subject would be best, he thinks. It would at least gloss over that thoughtless act of his and put the focus back on the more intelligent ones. "So you followed me?"

"I looked for you, yes. When I found you in the training courts, I considered going in and stopping you, but as I said, I was curious as to how long you would keep it up. So I stayed and I watched that night, and when I found your room empty the next night I did the same thing. And the next, and the next, until tonight."

Now that he's had a minute to let this sink in, a wave of shame rushes through Aziru. Mother had watched him every night...meaning she'd been witness to every little misstep he'd made in the past year. That time he'd tried a windmill kick in a too-wide stance, lost his balance, and landed flat on his rear; the time he'd nearly taken out a window with a misaimed fireball; the time he'd accidentally kneed himself in the face trying to do a roundhouse kick (now that had been a tough black eye to explain to her, and she’d stood there listening to his awkward excuses and knowing the truth the whole time!). A soft groan escapes him at the memories.

"What's wrong?" Mother asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You saw everything...” he mumbles. “I screwed up all the time...”

“That's true,” she starts, and he wishes that just once in their lives she’d sugarcoat it. “However, that’s what extra practice is _for,_ isn’t it? You’ve shown me that given the proper time and effort, your mistakes can be corrected. What’s more, you’ve shown that you are ready and willing to give that time and effort to improve yourself. It’s unusual to see such drive in a child as young as you." She smiles again. "It's an excellent thing to see in my heir."

Instantly, Aziru's shame is washed away by pride. He hasn't failed - he's made Mother happy. He's been a good son. A small smile crawls onto his face. So maybe a few rules had been bent in the process, so maybe it had been ungodly exhausting, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all. 

"However," Mother goes on. "Despite that, I have to tell you not to do this anymore, because - _because,_ Aziru," she says sternly, pressing a finger to his lips when he starts to protest, "I'd be blind to not notice how much this has been taking out of you. In fact, when I told Hashira where I'd been that first night, she advised me to have you stop right away. But I wanted to see how far you would stay with it, and you have exceeded expectations in that case. Which I highly approve of, but the toll it's taking on you is simply getting to be too much. Burning yourself out won’t do either of us any good. You understand?"

Reluctantly, Aziru nods. Tiring or not, this has become such a comfortable routine for him over time. He'll do it, of course, but he thinks he'll miss it. Maybe. It'll be nice to get back to full nights' sleeps, and now it might be easier to convince Mother to move him up to the advanced sets. Hard work will be rewarded one way or another, she tells him often, and he reflects that once again she's right. It occurs to him that he's glad she came to watch him, or else how would she know just how hard he works to be strong for her? And who else would have been there tonight, to come get him when his body gave out? Being warm and comfortable in her arms now definitely beats the alternative of spending the night splayed out on a hard, cold stone floor. Speaking of which...

“Mother?” he murmurs. “Um...Can I...sleep with you in your bed tonight, please?”

She cocks her head to the side, looking puzzled. “Why?”

“Uh...” He feels his face flushing hot. Does he need a reason to want to be near his mother? He never thought that would be a legitimate question. “I...just want to...thought it would be nice...” 

From the look on her face, she still doesn’t seem to understand, and Aziru searches for any other way to explain what he wants. He finds none, but mercifully Mother decides that won’t be necessary. “All right,” she agrees, giving a small nod. “For tonight, you may. We can’t make this a habit. Although...” One corner of her mouth edges up. “I’m not exactly averse to sharing my bed.”

As they makes their way through the halls of Mother’s personal quarters, Aziru only has to wonder what she means for a couple minutes, until they’re at her door. “Knock, knock,” Mother whispers as she pushes it open, casting a stripe of light onto the bed and illuminating its occupant. “We have a guest.” 

"M-My lord?" Hashira mumbles, pushing the covers back and sitting up. Like Mother, she’s wearing only a robe. Her short auburn hair is badly mussed and her deep gray eyes are bleary with sleep. 

“Hi, Hashira,” Aziru says quietly, giving her a little wave. He’s a little confused as to why Hashira’s sleeping with his mother, but decides not to question it. Maybe they really are friends, and maybe Mother needs comfort sometimes too. 

The general blinks, surprised to see him. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing,” Mother replies, carrying him over to the bed and laying him gently down on it before lying down as well. “Just so you know, Aziru’s not going to be training at night any more.”

“Oh, I see...” Hashira leans back down, propping herself up on her elbow. “You wanted to sleep next to your mother tonight? I hope I’m not intruding,” she says gently, pulling back the blankets to make a space for him. 

Aziru shakes his head. “You’re nice too,” he assures her as he slides under the covers between the two. His eyelids are heavy again, and the down mattress and pillow (the same as he has on his own bed) feel even softer and more inviting than usual. They smell like spices and cactus flowers - like Mother. When he moves close to Mother, snuggling up against her and resting his head on her shoulder, a little noise of surprise escapes her and she goes still (is it just him, or is she holding her breath?) but she lets him. Once again, the feeling of contentment and safety warms him, and as his eyes close, he feels sleep coming to claim him. But just for a few moments, he is not so out of it that he can’t hear Mother and Hashira.

“I don't understand it," Mother says, the words blunt but her voice soft, so as not to disturb him. "What comfort can he get from just being near me?”  
When Hashira speaks, he can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s like I’ve told you before: You’re his mother. He loves to be near you, he loves _you.”_

A snort of derision. “As if I would know anything about that.”

“...I was trying not to bring it up, my lord,” Hashira mutters. “But you know you are not like her.” 

“And how do I know that? _She_ didn’t think she was doing anything wrong, the perfect _saint_ that she is.” Mother’s voice is bitter, and Aziru doesn’t know why. Who are they talking about? “What if I’m the same way? I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, but I - “

“But nothing.” He feels Hashira’s arm brush his back as she reaches over to lay a hand on Mother’s shoulder. “I see how much he cares about you. This boy never has a bad thing to say about you. And I know you would never harm him.”

“That’s laying it on just a bit too thick, isn’t it, Hashira? And that can’t be all there is to it. A child like him...He’s not the naïve sort, but when they’re this young they’ll love their parents blindly, no matter what they do to their child.”

“My lord, put them _both_ out of your mind,” Hashira insists. “You are and will be better than them. Trust me, if you were doing anything wrong by him, I would tell you right away.”

“What would I do without you?” Mother says. She sounds sardonic, but Aziru can hear the faint note of sincerity under that tone. “Trust you...If I trust anyone, it would _have_ to be you. There is no one else.”

“There’s Aziru,” Hashira points out. 

Mother is silent. Aziru feels her arms tentatively wrap around him, pulling him closer to her body, with one hand on his back and the other pressed gently to the back of his head. “I _will_ be better than them,” she murmurs. “There’s no reason that I can’t.”

“None at all. Now, it’s too late at night for us to be up talking so much. Aziru’s already asleep, and we should be too.” The blankets rustle as Hashira settles back down. “Sleep well, my lord.”

Mother doesn’t answer her, doesn’t say anything else, just stays there holding him. Aziru finally falls asleep to the steady sound of her heartbeat, and his last thought before he does is that she is still wide awake.  
~0~


	7. Fates Worse Than Death

_Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, only to me._

He is seven, and he has very suddenly forgotten how to breathe. Up until now, Aziru had assumed that if Zuko or his allies defeated them and caught him and his mother, they would be killed. After all, it’s what Mother would do, to be rid of them as soon as she was able. His uncle would surely have no problem doing the same: after everything else he’s done, why would he think anything of the deaths of two people he cared nothing for? But he’d underestimated the traitor’s coldness...so, so badly.

“Wh-What...” His mouth has gone dry, and he swallows and runs his tongue around in his mouth before trying to speak again. He asks, praying to Agni that he’s misheard, _“What_ did you say he’d do?”

“You heard me perfectly, Aziru.” How can she look so _calm,_ saying what she just did? “But I’ll repeat it anyway. If Zuko were to ever capture us, he would lock us both away so we'll never trouble him again, and for good measure he'd call in his dear friend, the Avatar, to take away our bending."

When she repeats those last few words, his insides go cold as ice. Right now, he doesn't think he could call fire from within himself if he tried, Avatar or not. "But...But I just got my bending..." he gets out weakly. "I don't want him to take it away!"

"No bender wants to be stripped of the very essence of their being," Mother says dryly. "Unfortunately, the Avatar won't be giving you a choice. He has no qualms about crippling any opponent he wants to, to get his way. And your uncle won't hesitate to use him to his advantage. He's done it before, setting the Avatar on his father instead of taking his own vengeance."

"That's what happened to Ozai?" Now Aziru's confused. That's a horrible thing to have done to anyone, but he will never forgive his grandfather - _no one_ should be able to hurt his mother and get away with it the way he did - so maybe, just in that one case... "He deserved it.”

“Him, yes,” Mother agrees, the thought of her father’s humiliation bringing a small smile to her face. It fades just as fast as it came, however, as she continues. “Such a cruel punishment is perfectly fitting for a man like that. But the problem is, the Avatar does not consider it _cruel_ at all. He will beat you down, force his way into your spirit, tear out the most vital part of you, leave you broken for life, and then have the gall to call it _mercy._ The worst thing about it is, he truly believes it.”

“What?” For a second, he wonders if Mother is joking, but even her jokes aren't this awful. "How can he?"

"Because he's an idiot," Mother says curtly. "When I first encountered him, he was a self-righteous, spoiled, sheltered child who wouldn't listen to a thing he didn't like. He's an adult now, but none of that has changed. He's convinced that if he decides something is the right thing to do, then it is, and anyone who says otherwise is wrong. He won't hear their words, and he will take them down to reaffirm that his way and no one else's is correct."

So the Avatar thought it was okay to take another's bending from them against their will? Anyone he pleased? Just because he wanted to? The temperature of the training court seems to have abruptly dropped several degrees. "And Uncle Zuko...and Aunt Mai...and everyone with them...They're okay with it too?"

"None of them complained when he discovered this power, and used it to break Ozai. However, if they _do_ object, they wouldn't dare contradict the Avatar. Like I said, anyone who tries to say he's wrong, he considers his enemy. And his enemies must be dealt with, however he sees fit. Because _he_ , of course, is the most righteous being in the world, with his mastery of all elements," Mother scoffs, rolling her eyes. Aziru can agree with the acid in her voice - he detests those who let power go to their heads. If they're weak enough to be ruled by arrogance and greed, then they didn't deserve their power in the first place, and it was only right for those who were able to wield their authority correctly to replace them, by any means necessary. He’s read the history books. That’s how the world works, or, at least, how the Fire Nation has always worked. 

"But you asked how he can truly believe that what he does is merciful. The Air Nomads’ driving philosophy was that all life is sacred and that the worst thing one person can do to another is kill them. Of course, rational people like you and I know that there are far worse fates than mere death."

"Like getting your bending sucked out?"

"Don't interrupt me. As I was saying, he can't comprehend the idea that maybe, just maybe, some of the teachings of his long-dead people were wrong. So he has this steadfast belief that as long as he doesn’t kill a person, anything else he does is automatically merciful in comparison. But tell me, Aziru: would you prefer to have the part of you that you value so highly stolen from you, and left to live the rest of your life wasting away alone in a dark cell; or to be killed outright and be spared all of that?"

"I...I don’t think I know...” Aziru mutters, trying to weigh the upsides and downsides but finding that very hard when he can't even figure out which is which. Then all of a sudden one of Mother's words registers fully with him. "Wait...Why did you say alone?"

"I would have thought that was obvious, Aziru," Mother says, raising an eyebrow. "Do you really think your uncle would allow us to stay together? If he got a hold of either one of us, he would certainly keep us apart. You _are_ stronger with me around to guide you, after all." At first, when he sees the faintly nervous look in her eyes, he thinks it's just his imagination, but is startled when he realizes it isn't. Can his mother really be afraid? When she continues, her voice is softer, and she sounds less like herself somehow. "The most likely outcome is that we'd never see each other again. Zuko would make sure of it. He'd imprison us separately...or grow a spine and kill us both outright, that's always a possibility." 

With those words, it's as if the floor has dropped out from under him. His breathing is quickly speeding up out of his control, and his heart begins to pound, but his body is frozen as he stares, horrified, up at her. That can’t be right. It’s _not_ right. No one should be able to take his mother away from him. She is the center of his world, he loves her more than anything, and he can't imagine living without her. It just can’t happen! 

He isn't conscious of telling his body to move, only that in an instant he's at the edge of the training court, hugging his mother's leg like she'll disappear if he loosens his grip. Out of surprise, she starts to jerk back, but stops herself, letting him hang on to her. He presses his face against her, and it muffles his voice. "I don't want to never see you again," he whimpers. He doesn't feel tears start to well up in his eyes; he is still too stunned to cry. "I want to stay with you!" 

Normally it irritates her when he whines, but today she calmly (albeit slightly awkwardly because of his tight grip on her lower leg) bends down and wraps her arms around his shaking form. The voice in his ear is soft and light. "Now, now. Don't get so worked up. I know it's difficult to hear, but the truth is the truth, you know.” 

That isn’t very reassuring. He needs stability, he needs to know she'll stay. “Mother...Please don’t let Uncle take you from me!” 

“Of course not. Have a little more faith in me than that, little dragon," she murmurs. She'd taken to using that pet name not long after he'd begun to firebend. "You know that I'll protect you." 

"I don't want to be without _you!”_ he cries. "I...I-I'd, I would..." For some reason he can't make himself say the words: _I would rather be dead._ That choice was suddenly very simple. 

To his great surprise, that makes Mother laugh a little. Not unkindly, but he can’t tell exactly what she thinks of his reaction. “I understand how you feel. And it makes me so happy that you care as much for my well-being as I do for yours. But just think of this: Zuko has to go through me to get to you. And he will never be able to get through me." 

He wants to ask if she’s sure, but the implication that she doesn’t know what she’s doing will only irritate her. That’s not what he thinks of her, anyway. "So if he did try to...to do those things..." 

“I can safely say that it would be the last and worst move in a lifetime of poor decision making,” Mother says. She leans back out of his hold, moving her hands up to rest on his shoulders. "What I just told you was the worst-case scenario. There’s really very little chance of any of that actually happening. I should have explained that better, and now I’ve gone and frightened you,” she says ruefully. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he says quickly. “Isn’t it better that I know? And..." He ducks his head, his voice lowering to a mumble. She'll know he's not telling the truth, but it feels important to save face in front of her. "And I wasn't _scared_ anyway. I'm not a coward." 

"Certainly not," Mother agrees, giving him a smile. She looks inexplicably satisfied by his response. "And you're a smart boy, you know you have no reason to be afraid when I'm here for you." 

__"I know. And, thank you for telling me. Ah...Is there anything else we have to do today? Or are we done?”_ _

__“Yes, I think we can stop here for today,” Mother says, standing up. “Tell Iyashi he can come in now, we’ve been keeping him waiting.” But before he’s even taken a step towards the main double doors, a messenger runs in through the side door._ _

__“Fire Lord Azula, General Fuben requests your immediate presence in the war room. He requires assistance with the failing supply lines in the east, and would like me to emphasize that it's a matter of some urgency."_ _

__Mother's lip curls. "That one has no right to order me anywhere," she mutters, then addresses the messenger in her normal authorit. "Tell Fuben that I'll be with him shortly." As he bows and leaves, she turns back to her son. "Change of plans. Iyashi will have to wait another day. If my meetings don't run for too long, I'll see you both at dinner."_ _

__"I hope so." Aziru folds his hands and bows to end the training session, and Mother turns on her heel and leaves. When she's out of sight, he sighs. Iyashi has said that training with his sifu is the part of the day he looks forward to the most, and he hates to be the bearer of bad news to the boy who's been his loyal bodyguard for the past year. But he supposes he has to. Maybe he can find something interesting to do to fill up their now free time._ _

__As soon as that thought comes, another hits him right after, and he turns and runs for the doors. Training or not, the two of them have got serious work to do._ _

__~0~_ _

__As soon as Aziru bolts out the double doors of the training court, he promptly trips over Raiden, who had been patiently curled up right outside waiting for him. The startled wolf darts away, and he reflexively throws his hands out to catch himself, but before he can hit the floor a quick arm wraps around his chest and pulls him back to his feet. He looks up to see a pair of bright russet eyes right in front of him._ _

__"Careful, kid," Iyashi says, helping him back to his feet. "Got to watch where you're going. You think you can handle yourself while I'm working with Sifu Azula?"_ _

__"Uh...About that. She had to go to a meeting all of a sudden, and she said your training would have to wait until tomorrow. But I'm sure she'll make it up to you!" he adds quickly, seeing the disappointment dim Iyashi's eyes._ _

__"Yeah...Yeah, sure she will!" Iyashi brightens back up again. "So, anything you want to do in the meantime?"_ _

__Aziru nods seriously. "Ash, I just found out something important, and I have to know more about it. Everything I can. We'll have to get to it right away."_ _

__For some reason, that makes the older boy laugh. "When you talk like that you sound like a thirty-year-old general. I'm sure that'll be great in about ten years, but now it just sounds funny," he explains with a grin._ _

__"...You know, it would be really easy for me to tell Raiden to chew up all your stuff," Aziru says, pointing behind his bodyguard's legs to the inquisitive pup sniffing at the long, meticulously polished bow on the floor._ _

__"Excuse you, furball, that is not yours," Iyashi chides, grabbing his bow up from under Raiden's nose and wiping it off with his sleeve. "And it's just a little bit more important than your average stick."_ _

__He slips it safely back with his quiver, tightening the straps that hold them to his back. Aziru watches him check and double-check that everything down to the last arrow is in place (he does it often), and remembers how, on their first meeting last year after Mother decided that he should have more protection than just the regular palace guards, Iyashi had enthusiastically explained to him about every part of his gear and his practice regimen and how archery worked, apparently excited that his new charge had been interested in him and his passion. At first, having his new bodyguard follow him nearly everywhere like a shadow felt strange, but he's long since grown used to the older boy's company. So far, his services as Aziru's protector have not been seriously needed - he hasn't had to deal with a threat to the prince's life as of yet - but as a helpful companion he has proved his worth several times over. His bodyguard looks young even for thirteen, but he is much smarter than he appears. He'll definitely be of help this afternoon._ _

__"If you're done, then we should get going." He looks down at Raiden, who looks back with eager eyes, hoping to have some fun with his master. It feels worse than it should to deny that to his pet, but the white wolf pup won't be allowed to come with them. "Raiden, home."_ _

__Raiden barks once and runs obediently down the halls for Aziru's room, where he will wait until Aziru comes back to feed him. Aziru turns and starts walking the other way, knowing his bodyguard will follow him. "Come on, let's go."_ _

__~0~_ _

__The library is huge - at least, that was how Aziru had always thought of it. Mother says that it’s small and inadequate compared to the one in the royal palace. Then again, she thinks the same of just about everything in this stronghold, and when he’d asked Iyashi about it, he told him that she was probably just a little homesick. He can understand that. But with no way of comparing the two himself, Aziru has no such problems with with their current home. This library is two floors stuffed full of books and scrolls supplied by nobles, soldiers, and any other higher-up who had something of worth that they were willing to donate, as well as any useful publication that could be brought from enemy territory, and he finds it perfectly adequate for his needs._ _

__As he and Iyashi enter, one of the librarians, Ning, is working busily at the front desk. When she sees them, she slips a card into the book in her hands, lays it down, and stands up to greet them. “Good afternoon, Prince Aziru, Iyashi,” she says with a respectful bow. “May I be of assistance today?”_ _

__“Not today, thank you,” Aziru says. Iyashi doesn’t much like the young woman (anyone who associates with his older brother is automatically suspicious to him) but Aziru sees no reason not to be polite to her. "I know where I have to go."_ _

__"Niku's not nearby, is he?" Iyashi asks, stepping in front of him. "He's been hanging around you a lot more lately."_ _

__"That _is_ usually what happens when you enter into a relationship with someone, Iyashi," Ning says coolly. "Your brother is on the top floor. As long as you don't need to be in the very back, you should be able to stay out of each other's way. Prince Aziru, if you need any help, please let me know."_ _

__"I will. Come on, Iyashi." The older boy follows him up the stairs onto the top level, and his eyes flick warily around for an armored man nearly twice his age, but Nikutai Yumiya is the least of Aziru's concerns at the moment. He tugs on Iyashi's sleeve and leads him to the nearest corner section, marked with a hanging sign that read 'History.' "I'm going to do some research, and I need you to help me out."_ _

__"And you didn't get Ning to help because...?"_ _

__"Because she's busy and that's what I have you for. It'll be better with both of us looking anyway." Aziru starts skimming over a shelf of books on the history of the Fire Nation, running his fingertips over their rough spines. "Ash, did you know about how the Avatar takes people's bending away?"_ _

__"Yeah. Sifu told you about it today?"_ _

__"A bit." Iyashi had been younger than he was in the years immediately after the Hundred Year War, when the Avatar and Uncle Zuko had been hunting down the Fire Nation officials who had fled and gone into hiding to avoid being tried as war criminals, and possibly being sentenced to the removal of their bending as well as imprisonment. But still, maybe he can remember something helpful. "Does he really just take it out of them, like - " he snaps his fingers as a demonstration - "like that? With anyone?"_ _

__Iyashi smiles. "I don't think he does it quite like - " he imitates Aziru's finger snap - _"that._ And he usually only does it to people he says are big-time criminals who deserve it. But there's really nothing stopping him from doing it to anyone, if he thinks he should." His smile fades. "What, are you worried about it?"_ _

__Aziru gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes at his concern. "Of course not. But just to be better prepared, I want to know as much as I can about it, and about the Avatar itself. I don't think Mother told me everything..” He isn’t at all certain that he will be able to find exactly what they need here, but maybe there was a counter to the Avatar’s ability, or some weakness that they could exploit. Maybe there was a way that he could learn it for himself. The Avatar had to have learned how to take bending from _somewhere._ He pulls out two volumes - one thick and new, one thinner and repeatedly mended - and hands them up to Iyashi. “Start with these. See if you can find anything about past Avatars, their fighting styles, any past conflicts with them, how they died, things like that.”_ _

__“Sure. I don’t know how much it’ll help, but I’ll see what I can do.” Iyashi leans back against the bookshelf and starts to read, holding the older book open with one hand and hanging on to the newer one with the other. Aziru selects a moderately sized work on the history and development of bending. He hasn’t read this one before, as his studies up to now have been on firebending only. But for once his focus isn’t on improving his own techniques, but about educating himself on all the techniques of his opponents, so this book that covers all four elements and their wielders should serve him well. He sits down comfortably on the smooth wood floor across from his bodyguard and and opens to the first page._ _

__He doesn’t know how much this is interesting Iyashi, but he quickly becomes absorbed in his reading. Fire is the superior element, of course, but the other three are so _fascinating._ Why hasn’t he been taught more about them, he wonders? The Avatar controls all four elements, and so the origin of his ability to remove bending _(spiritbending,_ that’s the name that they’ve heard about from his uncle’s loyalists) could be any one of them. Waterbending is particularly intriguing:_ _

___‘The human body is seventy percent water, and contains various other fluids besides. Blood plasma, specifically, is ninety-two percent water. As the waterbender can draw water from the veins of a plant to utilize, so too can they draw on the water in the veins of another human to use against an opponent. This technique, known as bloodbending, allows the waterbender to completely control their victim’s body, and manipulate them like a puppeteer with their marionette. It is a rare and forbidden art, and so little is known about how to combat it.’_ _ _

__Could this be it? Could the Avatar be using this technique to do it? If it was powerful enough to affect the chi within the body, it’s perfectly possible. Like chi-blocking on enhancement tea, he thinks, smiling a little. Whether it turns out to be a true or not, he now has a potentially solid theory to suggest to his mother. But just one isn’t good enough. He flips through the pages to the chapter on airbending; as the culture allegedly most connected with the spirits, maybe the Air Nation’s bending discipline contains techniques that could manipulate a human’s own spirit. The Avatar’s name for his technique might turn out to be a dead giveaway -_ _

__"Hey, Aziru, check this out!"_ _

__Aziru's head snaps up at the silence being suddenly broken. "What? Did you find something?"_ _

__"Yeah, there's a whole chapter here on the founding of the Yu Yan!" Iyashi says with an excited grin. "I didn't know any of this!"_ _

___"Ash!"_ Aziru groans, aggravated. "That's not what we're looking for!" _ _

__"I _wasn't_ looking for it," Iyashi says flippantly. "But I found it anyway. Listen to this. _'When General Shun staged a revolt against Fire Lord Zhiyuan'_ \- he'd be your, ah, four-greats-granddad - _'master archer and mercenary leader Tobutaka Nohane and his followers came to the aid of the royal family, serving as protectors from rebel assassins. Shun's revolt was put down in a month, during which time no harm came to any member of the royal family. To reward them, Lord Zhiyuan offered them highly paid positions as a special unit of the army. Nohane accepted, and he and his band became the group known today as the Yu Yan Archers.'_ How could I not have known all this?"_ _

__Aziru decides not to point out that knowing how the group originated won't help him get in once he reaches the minimum age. "So that means the Yu Yan have been protecting my bloodline for..." He does a few quick calculations in his head. "Over two hundred years now."_ _

__"Yeah? Then it looks like watching your back is better training than I thought. It's a good thing they had the sense to stick around with Sifu when our people busted her out of the...Uh..." Iyashi trails off, his smile suddenly looking false, and he won't meet Aziru's eyes as he tries to find a way out of the hole he's suddenly dug himself into._ _

__Aziru sighs. "You can _say_ it, you know. We both know my uncle just threw her in there to get rid of her. There's nothing actually wrong with her."_ _

__"Sure I know that, kid," Iyashi says, rubbing the back of his neck. "But she doesn't like us to talk about it, so..."_ _

__"Do you want to talk about the Yu Yan some more, then? Or maybe about something _useful_ you might have found?"_ _

__"Well, there are these other stories about cool stuff they did!" Ignoring Aziru's second question and glad for the out he's been given, he skips forward a few pages. "Here: right after Fire Lord Azel came to power, a little before she had Lord Sozin, the Heir's Flame was stolen. You want to hear about how the Yu Yan got it back?"_ _

__"You're missing the point," Aziru says, thinking to himself that it's something he should look up later, if it might be helpful. The story being about how the headpiece of the crown prince was stolen centuries ago reminds him of how it is once again gone from its rightful owner today. He and Mother had been talking about it just the other day, in fact, and the conversation still lingers in the back of his mind._ _

~0~

___When she reads the very end of the status report from the intelligence unit, Mother's eyes narrow. "Oh, damn her," she hisses. "I thought for certain we could hold that against them."_ _ _

___Aziru looks up from the sofa on the other side of the study. "What's wrong?"_ _ _

___"It turns out that Zuko's darling daughter is a firebender after all," she says, looking at the scroll like she wants to burn it and settling for slapping it down on the desk. "Just a late bloomer like her father. Her mother's a nonbender, so I thought there was more of a chance that she'd turn out the same."_ _ _

___"What's the problem with not being able to bend?" Aziru asks, thinking of Hashira._ _ _

___"Nothing, in theory. But the majority of the nation would be opposed to having one who can't firebend sit the Burning Throne. I had hoped that we could garner support by pointing out that I can provide a firebending heir when Zuko can't, but little chance of that now."_ _ _

___Aziru doesn't know much about his uncle's family, but he remembers one thing he’s heard in passing about one member. “Isn’t her brother a nonbender?”_ _ _

___“Shizen? I don’t care about him,” Mother says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “From what I’ve been told, he’s both younger and weaker than his sister, but I never expected those two to produce strong offspring anyway. Though...” A thoughtful smile spreads across Mother’s face. “He’d be the only choice for inheritance, if anything unfortunate were to befall precious little Izuna.”_ _ _

___“If anything...” He is not naïve, he fully understands the insinuation and the concept is nothing new to him. But still, it stuns him. “Mother...Would you really...kill her?”_ _ _

___“Of course I would.” She turns in her chair to look at him, her tone cool and careful. “If she dies, then Zuko’s only other heir is his son. Given the choice between a nonbender and a talented firebender to inherit the nation, the people will prefer the latter. And if they both die, then you will be the only eligible heir to the throne, and it will further legitimize my claim to it and later yours. It has to happen eventually for us to truly win.”_ _ _

___“We have to...All of them have to die?”_ _ _

___“Yes. Zuko, Mai, Izuna, Shizen, Iroh, Ursa, all of them will block our way to the throne to their last breaths. So, the only possible solution is to kill them. You’re smart enough to understand that, aren’t you, Aziru?”_ _ _

___There is only one answer to that. “Yes, I understand.”_ _ _

___“Very good,” she says, turning back to her paperwork. “They’re all worthless, anyway. Ikari’s life means more to me than theirs. And don’t forget, Aziru, we’re not the only ones thinking like this. It would be to your uncle and aunt’s advantage for you to be gone, and those cousins you were so concerned about are likely just as eager to get rid of you. Keep that in mind.”_ _ _

___“I will, Mother.”_ _ _

___“If there were any justice in this world, I would be on the throne instead of him right now, reaping the rewards of my loyalty,” she muses, half to herself and half to him. “And you wouldn’t have to fight so hard for what is rightfully yours.” She looks back up at him, eyes moving to his unadorned topknot. “That brat of Zuko’s has_ your _crown._ Your _birthright. I’ll kill her myself if I have to, to win them back for you.”__ _

~0~

__“What we need to be doing now,” Aziru says, bringing himself back to the present and the matter at hand, “is finding more information on the Avatar. Just check out that book and you can read whatever you want about the Yu Yan later.”_ _

__“Sure, sure...” Iyashi starts skimming through the chapters to find the correct ones. “But really, though, I’m glad they’ve picked the right side. If they’d thrown in their lot with your loser uncle, we’d have had to wipe them all out, and then where would I be?”_ _

__“My bodyguard,” Aziru reminds him._ _

__“Yeah, well...There’s only so long you’ll need me hanging around, anyway,” Iyashi mutters._ _

__As with Mikuru, a saddened Iyashi just doesn’t look right, and Aziru feels the need to perk him back up. “Even if you’re not my bodyguard, I’m sure I’ll still need you! And Mother won’t just start ignoring you because I got old enough to take care of myself. She likes you too,” he reminds him. He won’t want Iyashi to leave in any case. Mother says that siblings are overrated (and that that’s why he’ll be staying an only child), but if Iyashi’s constant protective presence is anything like having an older brother, it can’t be all that bad. Probably it was Uncle Zuko that was the problem, not the thing in itself._ _

__“I guess she does. I mean, I _hope_ she does,” Iyashi replies, considering it. “It’s hard to tell with her. Though I guess that’s a good way to be when you’re the Fire Lord. You know, kid, you don’t know how great it is that she’s still around to lead us. You weren’t around when she was still locked up and Zuko was free to go around ruining the whole country. He’s pathetic. I don’t care if he’s the older one, he’s not the true heir to the throne.”_ _

__“Right, he betrayed the Fire Nation.”_ _

__“Even if he hadn’t done any of that, he wouldn’t deserve to rule,” the older boy says, shaking his head. “He’s too weak. Sifu Azula is the stronger one. For the nation to be powerful, its leader has to be the absolute strongest one in it. You get it?”_ _

__Aziru nods. It makes sense to him, especially since Mother’s always talking about how her brother is too weak to be on the throne too. “So the stronger sibling wins?”_ _

__“That’s right,” replies a low, smooth voice that is most definitely not Iyashi’s. The boys look up to see a young man with major’s armor and Iyashi’s short black hair and russet eyes, approaching them with a smile. “You’re very smart, Prince Aziru.”_ _

__Iyashi’s eyes narrow. “Go away, Niku.”_ _

__Nikutai’s smile doesn’t fade, but his eyes go cold as he regards his younger brother. “Any resident of this stronghold is free to use the library, Iyashi. You can’t order me out.”_ _

__“Use the library all you want, just do it away from me!”_ _

__Ignoring him, Nikutai looks down at Aziru, who tenses under his gaze and tries to look serious and mature. Mother has told him not to be intimidated by anyone older than him, but there’s just something about the soldier that always unsettles him. “Did you need something with us, Major Yumiya?” he asks as politely as he can._ _

__“Oh, nothing in particular,” Nikutai says, making a dismissive gesture with the book in his hand - the same book, Aziru recognizes, that Ning had been handling before. “I only heard from Ning that my brother and my prince were here, and thought that I ought to stop and say hello.”_ _

__“Hello, goodbye,” snaps Iyashi, glaring daggers at him._ _

__“You never _did_ learn to watch your tongue around me, did you?” he says coolly. “Don’t let being the student of the Fire Lord go to your head. She would never have acknowledged you if the prince hadn’t taken this inexplicable liking to you. Besides, our lord’s opinion may not be the be all and end all that you would like to think it is.”_ _

__“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”_ _

__Now, Aziru had been fully intending to curb the brothers’ argument off - a good part of all three of their lives revolve around a war of sibling rivalry and in his opinion they don't need any more of that - but the perceived slight against his mother changes his mind. "Yes, Major, what _do_ you mean by that?"_ _

__"I apologize, Prince Aziru; I meant no offense to you or to my Fire Lord." Nikutai's tone and conciliatory bow of the head seem overly flattering to Aziru. "I merely meant to remind you that things are not as black and white as you appear to think they are. While my lord is, of course, a tactical genius, it's impossible for her to always be right."_ _

__"She knows that," Aziru says in a carefully neutral tone, trying not to show his mounting anger. "What's your point?"_ _

__"My point is, this means that she is not always the best judge of character. For instance, she believes that she has the full support of everyone that claims loyalty to her, when that is not quite true.” His easy smile does not at all match his words, and Aziru feels a shiver run up his spine._ _

__“So what are you saying, _brother?”_ growls Iyashi, the last word ground from between his teeth. One hand slides down to the small sheath at his hip. “That you don’t support the Fire Lord? Would you rather Traitor Zuko keep ruling?”_ _

__The major laughs harshly. “Please. Zuko’s a soft touch. You can both consider this a fair warning from a concerned and loyal soldier. Really, Iyashi, I don’t know why you of all people would think such a ridiculous thing about me, that I would support a weaker brother who shouldn’t have been born in the first place.”_ _

__Iyashi’s jaw clenches, and he’s about to retort when Aziru, who has had just about enough by now, beats him to it in a soft, cool voice. “Leave him alone, Major. He’s my bodyguard, and I can’t have you agitating him, especially not on the job.”_ _

__“Hm?” Nikutai looks down at the young prince with barely hidden amusement on his face. “I’m sorry, Prince Aziru, I don’t understand what you mean. What have I done wrong?”_ _

__“You know what you’re doing. You’re not exactly being subtle about it.” _Look right into his eyes, don’t break the eye contact._ “You know," he continues casually, conversationally, "my mother says that she'll kill anybody who hurts me." True, she'd specified Uncle Zuko, but he thought the insinuation was fairly clear. " And when you pick on my friend like that, it really hurts my feelings." He tilts his head to the side, all big gold eyes and childish innocence. "You get it, don't you? I know you do. Soldiers are smart." _ _

__Nikutai's smile goes tight, and the amusement leaves his eyes faster than Aziru expected. "I see. Well, in that case, I will take my leave here. Good day, my prince." He turns and strides away, pointedly not looking at his smirking younger brother. Aziru watches him go with a sense of deep satisfaction._ _

__"Nice job, kid," says Iyashi approvingly. "I think that's the fastest anyone's ever made Niku quit annoying them." He snickers. "Sifu probably would off him if you asked her to, wouldn't she?"_ _

__"Only if I gave her a really good reason to. I still don't understand why he's not in prison with your father in the first place, though."_ _

__"Because he'll do everything else the old man would do, but he's smart enough not to try and kill me like he did," is Iyashi's prompt reply. "And speaking of that, I think we ought to tell Sifu what he said. About not everyone being loyal to her and all. Nicky's a jerk, but he's smart enough to get good information when he wants it."_ _

__"We'll tell her at dinner tonight," Aziru decides. They'll have to talk to Hashira first if they can find her, to make sure that they won't get Mother too paranoid. Just then, he notices an open page from the book still hanging in Iyashi's hand. "Hey, Ash, let me see that."_ _

__Iyashi hands him the book and he opens it to the page, which consists entirely of a detailed image of the Avatar, standing behind a man forced to his knees and with his limbs restrained in columns of rock. The Avatar's hands are on his forehead and chest, and notations at those positions remind him that these are the positions of the light and air chakras, respectively. Interesting. _Air chakra...Maybe it_ is _an airbending technique. A sub-skill, like bloodbending or lightningbending?_ And then there's the implication behind the use of chakras in general._ _

__"Does he destroy them?" Aziru wonders out loud. "The chakras? So people can't use them to bend?"_ _

__"Don't know." Iyashi is reading over his shoulder. "This must have been done by someone who's seen the Avatar actually do it. Or someone who heard what it's like from someone else...Or something. And I don't know much about chakras and all that anyway."_ _

__"Well, now you're going to learn. Go see if you can find anything about the chakras or chi paths or how people can manipulate them. I'll keep reading here." Iyashi nods and goes to check the nearby shelves, and Aziru looks closer at this picture. The Avatar's eyes are what really draw his attention: they're not like a person's, just solid blue-white with no irises or pupils. It's only a drawing, but he has a feeling that they would be just as emotionless in real life as they are on the page. His own eyes narrow. _I'll find a way to best you,_ he thinks. _We'll show you you're not invincible. Uncle won't have you as his weapon for long. And you'll never take my mother away from me.__ _

__Settling in for an afternoon of research (he can stay as long as he has to until he feels satisfied), Aziru continues with the books, reveling in each new discovery and knowing that each one will only make it easier to bring his enemies down._ _

__~0~_ _

___It's cold. So cold, it feels unnatural. Aziru can't tell where they are, only that it’s dim and gray and icy cold all around them. The only traces of light and heat are from the fire blasting and flying in front of him, that he gets the sense he should be frightened of, but he can’t quite feel the fear. He sees what is in happening in front of him in bright gold and blue flashes._ _ _

___His mother and his uncle are fighting._ _ _

___The siblings are attacking each other so furiously that he can barely make out their movements, much less tell which one is winning. The blasts of flame momentarily light up their faces, illuminating lurid grimaces and snarling lips. Uncle Zuko’s scar flares purplish-red in the harsh light, and both pairs of golden eyes, already burning with hatred, glow unnaturally bright. Bruises and scarlet cuts are scattered over their skin, and he can see scratches and dents in their armor and spots of the cloth underneath that have darkened with blood. How long have they drawn this out? He doesn’t know. They don’t appear to have noticed him: it seems that right now they only have eyes for each other. That seems logical to him. Mother has told him, that in a battle, your utmost focus must be on your opponent and how to take them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. The slightest distraction could cost you the fight. So he steps back slowly, making as little noise as he can, not wanting to be that kind of distraction to his mother - though if Zuko were to notice him and take his attention off of Mother, that would work out very well for them._ _ _

___But, he’s noticing now, it doesn’t look as if his mother needs any help like that. Now that he's gotten a better grasp of the situation, he can see that she is steadily gaining the upper hand. She is pressing forward harder and faster, and his uncle can't seem to keep up. He's trying, of course, but Aziru hasn't seen him land a hit on Mother, and he can't dodge forever, not when the misses get nearer and nearer with each strike and his movements are slowing. He notices that the dark wet patches on Zuko's clothes and skin are larger and more numerous than on Mother's. It's becoming very clear which sibling will be walking away from this fight, and Aziru smiles at the realization, internally cheering on his mother._ _ _

___A predatory smirk curves Mother's lips, and she puts on an extra burst of speed and lunges at her brother, unleashing a torrent of fireballs. To his credit, Zuko tries to avoid them, but after a few moments one grazes his right arm, setting the fabric of his shirt alight. He hisses and tries to counter, but another blast hits him directly in the chest, knocking him backward with a yell of pain. He slams hard into the ground - Aziru can hear the air rush from his lungs - and he lies there gasping for breath, his face twisted with pain. Seeing her chance, Mother darts forward, drawing her arm back to deliver the killing blow. The first sparks of a lightning strike burst into being at her fingertips, and a smile lights Aziru’s face: this is it, she’s finally going to end it!_ _ _

___But just as she’s about to send a final stream of flame out to engulf Zuko’s face and throat, he leaps, blindingly fast, back up to his feet. He unsheathes his dao swords - wait, did he have those before? - and swings viciously at Mother. She can’t stop her attack in time to jump back before the sharp edge slices a deep diagonal gash across her face. A shocked cry escapes Aziru, and all he can think is,_ This isn't what's supposed to happen!_ _

___Mother tries to move away from Zuko, but the blood from the cut has trickled into her eyes, blinding her. She can't escape, and his uncle shows no mercy. He lunges forward, coming in close, and makes two fast, ferocious slashes at once: one through her throat and another through her stomach. Blood sprays from the cuts, spattering Aziru's horrified face. He wants so badly it hurts to scream, to run, to protect her, but his body is frozen and useless. Mother staggers backwards, unable to do anything else, her eyes wide as if she doesn't quite comprehend what just happened. Eyes wild and blazing, Zuko lunges in for the kill, and drives both blades directly through her heart._ _ _

___Aziru feels as if the same has been done to him, as if everything has just shattered inside him, and he desperately tries to deny the evidence of his eyes. Half the silver steel sticks out dripping red through her back. When his uncle yanks the swords back out of her with a sickening wet sound, her trembling legs hold her up for a second, then give out, and she collapses to the ground. Zuko stands over her still form, swords in hand, his mouth going slack. He is staring down at her impassively, as if he's done nothing more important than kill an insect. It takes Aziru a moment to realize why she isn't moving and why her reddened eyes are dull and lightless, and when he does, an agonized shriek finally breaks from him._ _ _

___Zuko's head jerks to the side to look at him. His uncle's eyes are darker than his mother's, and looking into them, Aziru is terrified: they are, all of a sudden, cold and passionless and as empty as a corpse's. He knows that he'll be killed too if he doesn't get out of here, but no matter how desperately he tries to move them, his legs just won't_ work. _But he has to make his body move, he has to, because if he doesn't it'll be him that Zuko cuts down next -__ _

___But Zuko isn't looking at his nephew any more. Rather, he's focused on something just behind and above him. Aziru is about to turn and look for himself, but then Zuko gives a short nod, and immediately something hits the back of Aziru's legs hard enough to drop him to his knees. Before he can do anything, his wrists are grabbed and held together behind his back in a bone-crunching grip, and something seizes his hair and yanks his head back, momentarily closing his throat and leaving him fighting for breath. Sharp pains shooting up his neck, he's forced to stare straight up at the being holding him so painfully, and when he realizes just what it is, his heart stops._ _ _

___The first things he sees are the eyes, shining solid blue-white and boring into his own widened ones, and then he recognizes the equally bright arrow markings winding around the arms and over the head. In an instant, he knows what's about to happen, and he tries to plead for mercy but his voice is gone. With more effort than it should have taken he moves his eyes forward, trying to meet his uncle's, hoping wildly that he'll have a sudden change of heart and call the Avatar off, or if anything grant his nephew a quick death instead of this torture. But Zuko is unmoved, watching with mild interest as his sister's blood pools around the soles of his boots._ _ _

___The Avatar's palm begins to glow, and it burns Aziru's skin like ice as it presses down on his scalp and forehead. Its eyes flash, and he feels a sudden sharp_ pull _at the bottom of his stomach, that moves steadily up his body and intensifies as it goes. It feels as if the Avatar is trying to suck his insides out, to leave him raw and bleeding with nothing left within, and it hurts it hurts it hurts it_ hurts, _more than anything he could have imagined. He finds that his voice has returned when he cries and shrieks to the sky, screaming for the only one who can help him, the only coherent thought he can form.__ _

___"Mother! MOTHER!"_ _ _

__He doesn't realize he's awake at first, or that he really has been screaming. The nightmare holds onto him for a few moments more, until the soft pillows and sheets surrounding him and the gentle hand in his hair register with him. His eyes flicker frantically around above him until they land and focus on his mother, sitting beside him on the bed with her other hand pressing down on his shoulder to still his thrashing. "Shhh, Aziru, shh," she's whispering, her voice shaking slightly. She must be worried about how badly he'd panicked, is still panicking. "I'm here, I'm right here, you're safe."_ _

__The feelings of her blood spraying over him, of his very spirit being wrenched out of him, are still fresh and real in his mind, and he realizes that tears are pouring freely down his face but he can’t find it in himself to care. All that matters is his mother. “You were dead,” he sobs between hitched breaths. “You were dead!”_ _

__"Don't cry, it was just a dream. It's not real and it can't hurt you," Mother tells him firmly._ _

__She doesn't get it. "It _was_ real," he insists. "Uncle Zuko, he killed you!"_ _

__"Zuko? Don't worry all _that_ much about him," she says softly. Her hand starts to move soothingly through his hair. "He may be real, but he's nothing to be scared of, not while I'm around. I can assure you, I am very much alive and don't plan on dying anytime soon."_ _

__"But what if he fights you?" Aziru asks, suddenly remembering about the very end of the war and the reasons he's heard so very little of it directly from her. It's not a safe topic by any means, but he can't not bring it up. "What about the Day of the Comet? He beat you once, couldn't he do it again?"_ _

__The stroking stops. It's dark, but he can still see her eyes narrow dangerously. "He didn't beat me," she hisses. "I won that Agni Kai. That lightning as good as killed him. He was writhing on the ground with his insides seared when his little pet waterbender butted in and attacked me. I _won_ that day, and he cheated me out of my victory. You _know_ that, Aziru.”_ _

__“I...” She’s right, of course. But fear still taints his thoughts, and besides, things can change. “What if you hadn’t hit him, though? You said he’d gotten really strong out of nowhere. If the Agni Kai kept going, do you think he could have beaten you fairly?"_ _

__Mother has gone stiff, and the hand on his shoulder tightens. Aziru can _feel_ her anger, and he knows he'd better have a _really_ good reason for saying what he just said. He starts in quickly, "It's just, in my dream, you were fighting him and it looked like you were going to win, but then he took his dao swords out of nowhere, and - " His throat closes up, stopping him. His eyes start stinging again as fresh tears well up and threaten to fall. He can't think about that again, he can't, he _can't.__ _

__"And killed me," Mother finishes flatly. Her voice is cool, but thankfully there's a note of understanding in it. It sounds like his slight has been more or less forgiven._ _

__He gives a shaky nod. "Then the Avatar took my bending," he whispers. "I don't want them to hurt us like that. Why can't they just leave us alone?" On the last word, his voice breaks and he starts crying again. "I-I hate them...I hate them so much...Why can't they all just die?!"_ _

__Mother doesn't seem surprised or annoyed at his outburst. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd think he saw one corner of her mouth twitch up into a smirk for just a split second. But he probably just misread her expression in the dark. She brushes the tears from his face and resumes petting his hair. The soothing tone returns to her voice. "I know exactly how you feel, my little dragon," she croons, and he doesn't think on how this comfort sounds and feels different from the last, though he knows it _must_ be genuine. "But it's all right. I told you before, Zuko is not going to hurt you, because I won't let him. I'll kill him before I let him come near you. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you."_ _

__Mother means well, he knows, but she's missing the point. "B-But what if you were gone? He could kill me. He could do anything he wanted."_ _

__Her voice is abruptly harsh again, but not with anger at him this time. "That won't happen. I won't leave you. I would never - "_ _

__"What if he killed you, and you didn’t have a choice? You haven't seen him in years, he could have gotten stronger."_ _

__"Not stronger than me," Mother says, in that tone that leaves no room for protest or argument. “He will never be better than me. And I will not let him or anyone else separate us.” In her next words, he picks up on that familiar bitterness that means she’s thinking of somebody. Aziru knows by now that it’s one specific person, but one that he has yet to identify. “I told you, I won't leave you. A mother doesn’t abandon her child. Not for _anything.”_ _ _

__A tense silence hangs in the air between them for a moment, before Mother evidently decides that she's said enough, even though he knows he’s only getting half of what she really means. Her hand trails from his hair, and she gets up from the bed. Her eyes linger on his face. “As long as I am here, you’ll be safe. And I will always be here for you. Call me back if you need anything, you know where I am. Sleep peacefully.”_ _

__With that, she turns and returns to her bedroom, shutting the door soundlessly behind her. Aziru lies there, still and quiet. Slowly, he reaches up and wipes the remaining moisture from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Part of him wants to call her back right away, but he just snuggles deeper under the covers and stays silent. There's no need to bother her any more, not really. She's alive, whole, _there_ with him, and that's all he needs to know. And if she says that Uncle Zuko is too weak to actually carry out his plans for them, then it must be true. Mother is never wrong._ _

__Aziru closes his eyes and presses his face into the soft down pillow, willing unconsciousness to come quickly. He imagines a different end to his nightmare, and lets the thoughts of his mother completing that last attack, burning his uncle's body away to nothing, setting them free of him forever, soothe him back to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I like writing Mamazula probably more than I should. And Aziru is becoming one of my favorite OCs. :D
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, remember in the last chapter when Aziru mentions that he accidentally kicked himself in the face while trying to do a windmill kick? Well, a few weeks after I finished writing that chapter, I was practicing my kung fu and when I did a windmill kick, I brought my leg up too high, too fast, and kneed myself right in the nose. I was somewhere between laughing and crying and my mom was giving me the most disappointed look when I told her what I did. So it was like real life writes the plot but in reverse. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s commented, bookmarked, and left kudos on this story! I love you all!


	8. Falling Further

_Guileless son, your spirit will hate her, the flower who married my brother the traitor..._

He is eight, and this day is starting off very well, even by a prince’s standards. The sky is the clearest he’s seen in a long time, the sun is comfortably warm on his back, and he and Mikuru have had most of the morning (now going into the afternoon) free to play. The courtyard is completely empty save for them and Iyashi, who sits in the shade of a tree as relaxed as a perpetually alert bodyguard can be and referees their sparring matches. Aziru has just won three, and fully intends to go for four when Mikuru speaks up. 

“Aziru, I like sparring with you,” she begins between pants. She had really been giving it her all, he thinks; though it had been easy to win, it had taken longer than he’d expected to wear her down. “But do you think we could try doing it another way? I mean, like not with firebending?”

He knows what she’s trying to get at: the great love of her life. “You mean with swords?” 

“Yeah!” Mikuru exclaims, happy that he caught on. “I brought the wooden training swords. Since Mom just started giving you lessons, do you want to try sparring with those?”

Aziru considers it. Why not? Mother has (however grudgingly, and never without her watching) allowed Hashira to begin teaching him for the sake of keeping his fighting skills well-rounded, but he hasn’t had nearly as much sword training as firebending training. He should take every opportunity to get some more practice in. “All right.”

The second he agrees, Mikuru runs over to the tree next to Iyashi, retrieves the training swords, and tosses one to Aziru with a smile on her heart-shaped face. “Ash, it’s the same as a regular sparring match, right?” he asks as the two of them get into position.

Both Iyashi and Mikuru nod. “Same rules, same distance apart,” Iyashi confirms. “Both of you back up just a couple more steps...Perfect.”

Mikuru assumes her stance near-professionally, all playfulness abruptly gone from her gray eyes. The only time Aziru can see any resemblance to Hashira in her daughter is at times like these, when she holds a sword in her hands. He gets into position more slowly, but with equal confidence. 

“Ready...Begin!” Iyashi calls.

They dart at each other when the word is barely out of his mouth, and Aziru is surprised at how quickly Mikuru is able to put him on the defensive. He makes sure not to let it show on his face, though: it’s a weak fighter that allows their opponent to see what they are thinking. _But she really is good,_ he internally admits. It’s no excuse to lose to her, but it’s certainly a reason to respect her. 

She’s coming at him so fast that he can’t find any opening to fight back. This is becoming less a fight and more her maneuvering him around the courtyard. He wants to move - being held in deadlock is so frustrating - but he has to be patient and alert, like Mother tells him. She’ll leave some part of herself open to attack, it has to happen at some point - _there!_

Aziru lunges forward, eyes fixed on her left shoulder, but isn’t quick enough to react when Mikuru suddenly drops out of his vision. He only has time to feel a flash of confusion before something hits the backs of his knees, and his legs are suddenly not holding him up anymore. He lands hard on his back (though the grass is soft, it doesn’t cushion his fall in the slightest), and he’s all of a sudden staring up the blade of Mikuru’s sword. The tip quivers just above his nose, and Mikuru is standing over him. “Yield?” she asks, trying as hard as she can to make her high, naturally unthreatening voice sound bold and brave. 

He tries not to laugh; she’ll feel bad. Instead he smiles. “I yield.”

As soon as he says it, she tosses the sword aside and offers him her own smile and a hand to help him up. He reaches up to take it (realizing that he now has that hand free, and he must have dropped his own sword at some point when he fell), and she pulls him to his feet. “You did good!” she praises him.

_Well,_ he internally corrects. “You did better.”

“That _is_ true,” Iyashi agrees, after considering it for a moment. “I probably should have warned you about that neat little trick of hers, Aziru. I’ve seen her take down kids bigger than her with that move.” He smirks. “Bruised egos and wounded pride abounded.”

_“You_ don’t feel bad, do you, Aziru?” Mikuru asks worriedly. “I know you like to win as much as I do.”

“It’s okay, really,” he assures her, shaking his head. “I think if you lose, then it’s just a wake-up call that you need to do better. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah...Yeah, that sounds good! What do you think, Ash?” she asks, looking attentively at the older boy. 

“That is a positive way of looking at things,” he agrees again. “It’s nice to see that you guys can still be this optimistic. Especially in times like this, some people can get really pessimistic even by your ages, you have no idea.”

“You mean like you?” Aziru says, raising an eyebrow. Mikuru shoots him a reproachful look, but Iyashi just snickers.

“I’ll admit to that,” he concedes. “But don’t get me wrong, I’d certainly _like_ to be more optimistic. It’s been easier since Sifu got me out of my brother’s house and took me on as her student.”

Aziru scoffs, “Not just her student. It’s been two years, aren’t you practically her foster son by now?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t call it that exactly.” The bodyguard rubs his neck the way he always does when he’s uncomfortable, and his smile turns tight. “And neither would she. One kid is all she wants; you know, so there’s no competition. So better not to mention that to her, okay?”

Mikuru and Aziru share a conspiratorial glance, and then chorus brightly, “Whatever you say, big brother!”

“I’m serious, you guys!” Iyashi squawks, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, not that I’m not kind of flattered, but – “

“Don’t worry, we get it.” Deciding that this discussion has gone on long enough, Aziru turns to Mikuru again. “Do you want to go for another round? I want to try again.”

“Sure!” she says brightly, grabbing up the wooden sword again. Aziru thinks that they ought to spar with swords more often if it makes Mikuru this happy. 

“Make sure she doesn’t hit you with the leg-sweep thing again,” Iyashi advises him as he picks up his own sword. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, fool me thrice, I’m too dumb to live, and all that.”

“That was a leg sweep?” Aziru says with interest. “You’re so fast, I couldn’t really tell what you did. Could you teach me to do that?”

“‘Course I could! It’s actually really easy once you get the hang of it, and swordfighting isn’t only about swords after all. Though, are you sure the Fire Lord will be okay with this?” she adds hesitantly, the sudden thoughts slowing and quieting her for a moment, and she seems to shrink with oncoming nervousness. “Didn’t she say only my mom was allowed to teach you the sword?”

He knows it’s not that Mikuru doesn’t like his mother - she admires her almost as much as she does her own mother - but she’s always been rather badly intimidated by her. Not uncommon feelings in this stronghold, but still. And the thought brings him up short too. True, Mother is very particular about who is permitted to teach him anything, but this doesn’t really _count,_ does it? It’s only another form of training, after all, only himself and Mikuru helping each other out. Of course it’s okay. And if Mother does take issue with it, then they’ll just stop, simple as that.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying for a tone of authority. He’s picked up by now that people are more likely to listen (and be reassured) by someone if they act as if they are in charge and know what they’re talking about, whether that’s actually the case or not. It looks like it’s worked for him this time.

“Okay, then!” Just like that, Mikuru snaps back to normal. “I’ll teach you my tricks, if you can beat me in one match!”

He smirks. A challenge to win, even better. “You’ve got a deal.”

They move into the proper positions and assume their stances once more. Iyashi lifts his hand again, throws it down - “Begin!” - and they charge at each other again.

~0~

“Faster, Iyashi. Faster! I want you to be able to block these - I said _block,_ not dodge!”

While Iyashi, his torso bare and his face flushed and dripping sweat, forces his aching arms to move quick enough to block his sifu’s sharp-nailed strikes, Aziru waits patiently on the sidelines. He watches his mother and bodyguard intently, petting Raiden, who sits against the wall beside him, from head to tail. Having been sitting still here for nearly an hour, he’s impatient to begin his own training session, but it’s almost time for that so he sees no need to get fidgety now. Just a few minutes later, this last drill ends when Iyashi’s well-honed reflexes finally fail him, and Mother lands a solid kick in his gut and knocks him to the floor. She stands over him for a minute while he wheezes and tries to get his breath back, before reaching down to offer him a hand.

“Had this been a real battle, you would have been killed,” she says sternly as she pulls him to his feet. “No enemy is going to just stand there politely and wait for you to catch your breath.”

“Y...Yes, Sifu, I understand,” Iyashi pants, still winded.

Mother goes on to explain what flaws she had noticed in his technique, and how she suggests he can fix them. It reminds Aziru of Mikuru, correcting his movements and giving him tips after each of their three matches. True, he hadn’t won any of them (Mikuru was better than he had expected), but he doesn’t think of it as a total loss, not if he can learn from it. Despite their original deal, Mikuru said she’d teach him some of her favorite swordfighting moves anyway, if he helped her out with her firebending, which he is more than willing to do. He will not lose next time. And even if he does, they’re just practice fights anyway. They don’t matter in the long run, not really. 

Mother has finished lecturing her older student, who is affirming that he understands and promising that he will improve. “See that you do,” she says. “Go clean yourself up and wait for Aziru outside. He’ll be back with you soon.”

“Yes, Sifu.” Iyashi folds his hands and bows respectfully, then turns to leave. He grabs a clean red towel from the rack on the opposite wall and drapes it over his shoulders, and gives Aziru a thumbs-up for good luck before heading out the doors. Aziru smiles, gestures for Raiden to stay where he is, and darts out onto the floor.

“Mother, what are we going to do first? You said last time, we were going to - “

He almost doesn’t see the object coming through the air at him, and when he does he catches it reflexively in one hand. Examining the pointed length of wood in front of his face, he’s puzzled. “A practice sword?” He looks up at his mother for an explanation as she comes back over, and is startled by the expression on her face. Why is she angry? “M-Mother?” he stammers.

She’s narrowing her eyes at him, and her voice is low and harsh. “Hashira tells me that Mikuru won all of your sparring matches today.”

Well, technically it had only been the swordfighting ones. He had won all of the others, his firebending was as superior to hers as her swordplay was to his. But Mother does not look to be in the mood to be corrected at all. “If...If you don’t want me to practice with her any more, I - “

“Do what you want with her,” she snaps. “I don’t care that you practice with her. I _care_ that you _lost.”_

_Oh._ He hadn’t thought it would be that big of a deal. Was he wrong? “I-It was just a few practice fights...” he starts, and is quickly cut off.

“So you don’t take this seriously? I expect better than that from you.”

“No, I - I mean, I _do_ take it seriously, but - “

“But _what?”_ she says coldly. “Do you think loss is something to be taken so lightly? It doesn’t matter what you were doing. You don’t lose. You are my son, and I need you to fight for me and one day succeed me as Fire Lord. I thought you understood the standards you have to meet as crown prince. I thought I made it perfectly clear that failure is not acceptable. I suppose I was wrong.”

Aziru tries to work his now-dry throat, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know quite what he should say anyway. His hands are shaking so badly he’s in danger of dropping the sword. Mother has never spoken to him like this before. Never. “I...I’m sorry,” he gets out weakly, knowing that it’s nowhere near enough. 

Mother isn’t impressed. “I should hope so.” She looks pointedly at the sword she’d given him. “You’ll train by yourself today. And I don’t want to see such a disappointment from you again, Aziru.”

She turns and strides out the door without another word, leaving her son alone in the empty court, stunned and confused. _But it wasn’t such a big deal,_ he internally protests, trying to work out what just happened. _Was it? Am I wrong? I didn’t think it was so wrong, to lose a few matches. But Mother said..._

Yes, that’s the important part, isn’t it: Mother said. His mother is smarter than him, Aziru reminds himself, smarter than him and knows better than him. She’s always right, so he has to be wrong. He just didn’t realize before.

_Wrong. Loser. Disappointment. Failure._

He thinks he’s beginning to understand. And he refuses to be any of these things. He realizes that his eyes are stinging, and he furiously rubs them with the back of his free hand. This is no time for tears. It’s time to get to work. 

When he goes through the door and into one of the back yards, Iyashi is sitting on the grass doing cool-down stretches. He lifts his head and smiles at Aziru. “Hey, kid, you’re out fast,” he remarks. “Is Sifu really done with you already?”

Aziru feels a twinge of anger at his words, and has the impulse to snap at Iyashi to leave him alone, but it’s a perfectly reasonable question. This isn’t how their training sessions usually go, after all, and his bodyguard is only looking out for him. “Mother gave me a choice,” he lies easily, forcing himself to look just as happy and enthusiastic as he had before they’d begun training. “She said I could work with her or take some extra time to practice with a sword. I can take a day for extra sword practice. I think I need it, don’t you?”

He internally kicks himself for starting to ramble - Mother always says, if he’s going to lie, it’s best to keep it concise - but Iyashi seems to buy it. “I guess so,” the older boy agrees. “I’m glad you like using that sword so much. It’s good to expand your arsenal. I’m not so great at firebending, but at least I have it to use along with my arrows.”  
“You’re getting better,” Aziru assures him. “And if my uncle can master the sword, then there’s no reason why I can’t.”

It makes him feel better to project his anger and frustrations with himself onto Uncle Zuko. His uncle is the weak one. His uncle is the failure that Mother hates. Aziru is _not._ He is his mother’s son, and the rightful heir to the Burning Throne. He can be as strong as he needs to be, and then Mother will be happy with him. He takes his opening stance, and lunges forward into the first form, and does not stop until the sky begins to turn gold and Iyashi stops suggesting and starts insisting that they go back inside before it gets too dark to see.

~0~

It’s another three days before he finds enough time to spar with Mikuru again. It doesn’t take him long to track her down to her mother’s office, where she’s curled up in the desk chair that’s much too big for her and intently studying a small scroll he recognizes as an intelligence report. 

“Does Hashira know you have that?” he asks by way of greeting.

She looks up at him without a trace of surprise; probably she’d heard him coming. “Mom’s the one who gave it to me, so, yeah, I think she does.” Sitting up straight in the chair, her legs dangling from the seat, she lays the scroll flat on the desk and turns it around for Aziru to inspect. “Normally she doesn’t let me see them, but she’ll always let me have the information she has the intelligence division get on this guy,” she says, pointing out the most prominent name. 

“Sergeant Major...Kisho Taiyang?” Aziru racks his brain, trying to remember who this man is and why he shares a surname with Mikuru. “Isn’t that...Isn’t he your _dad?”_

Mikuru makes a face. “Don’t call him that. Mom says he doesn’t deserve it, and I think she’s right.” She points at the report again. “You see? He’s a _traitor.”_

Obligingly, he takes a closer look at the scroll, scanning through the details of her father’s activities over the past month. He’s led raiding parties against Mother’s supply lines twice, and captured and personally executed one of her spies. _What a busy guy._ “I guess this is why I’ve never met him?”

“Yeah. It’s also why _I’ve_ never met him: he deserted while Mom was still pregnant with me,” Mikuru informs him. Bitterness is beginning to creep into her voice and taint her normally cheerful demeanor, and Aziru doesn’t think he likes it. “He wanted to take her with him, and make her a traitor too. You know what she did as an answer?” She smirks. “She took her sword and tried to slice his head off for suggesting that she’d betray her nation like him. I think it’s good that she and your mom have gotten together: at least now, Mom’s giving her trust to someone who deserves it.”

“And will make sure she’s suitably repaid for her loyalty,” he agrees, internally burning with anger at this faceless man’s betrayal of his own wife and daughter. The anger and resentment is clear on Mikuru’s face, and it turns his stomach that someone could so callously make his friend feel that way, even more so because the person in question has committed the additional crime of siding with his uncle. “Don’t worry, Miki. When we win the war, I’ll make sure that he’s punished.”

“Don’t _you_ worry, Aziru,” she corrects him. _“I’ll_ be the one to make him pay for what he did. It’s only fitting that you be the one to get rid of the people who make your family look bad, and it’s only fitting that I be the one to get rid of that man. That makes sense, right?”

“Yeah,” Aziru agrees. “It’s a good thing you’re so great at swordfighting.”

Her smirk broadens into a genuine smile. “And that my mom let me start seriously learning it early on. One day, I’ll be the best in the Fire Nation, even better than her. Hey, maybe one day you’ll be better than your mom too!”

The thought makes Aziru laugh, though not unkindly. “No one can be better than my mother. The most I can hope for is to be equal to her.” Always to be equal, never to surpass - as if perfection were possible to surpass in any case. “Though speaking of swordfighting, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I want to spar with you again. Do you have time to?”

“Sure!” Mikuru readily agrees, rolling up the scroll and replacing it in her mother’s desk drawer. “I’ll get the wood swords, let’s go right now!” She darts out of the room, and Aziru wonders if she is always this excited and enthusiastic about her training as he follows close behind her.

~0~

Once again, they pick the courtyard as their substitute training court, with Iyashi occupying his usual spot under a tree flanked by Raiden and Shin’yuu. Both tigerwolves sit and watch Aziru and Mikuru just attentively as their bodyguard. As the two of them take their stances, Aziru runs through in his head every move he’d practiced and every piece of advice he’d stayed up late reading over the past three nights. His hands clench on the smooth hilt of the sword. With all the preparation he’s been able to fit in, there’s no way he can fail this time. He can’t afford to explain another loss to Mother, she’ll think he wasn’t taking her seriously or not even listening when she’d talked to him. He can’t have that; it’s just not true.

When Iyashi calls, “Begin!” Aziru lunges forward, but is careful to not charge forward as recklessly as last time. Taking the initiative and going in strong is good, but an overly aggressive approach is not as advisable for swordfighting as it can be for firebending, and it isn’t good to get too tense and think too little. He had thought that that was what Mikuru was doing, but now as they cross blades he sees that though she is confident in her ability to win (perhaps too much so, Mother might comment), she is still taking no chances and is maintaining strict control and sharp focus. Once again, he is briefly reminded of Hashira, as he parries another strike. By now he knows she likes keeping him on the defensive, but he won’t let her be the only one to attack for long, and no way will he end up downed by that leg sweep again - _There it is!_

The second he sees her body start to dip down and her leg start to move, as fast as he can he sidesteps and jumps in to knock her off balance. She had won all their matches the other day ridiculously quickly, so he had better do the same if he wants to catch up with her. For just a moment, he thinks that he will be the one to land the winning blow, until Mikuru lands an unexpected stab right under his ribs. The length of wood is short and blunt, but it’s still hard and thick and very unpleasant to have jabbed right into his stomach, and he can’t stop himself from collapsing to his knees, the breath momentarily knocked out of him. 

Knowing that she’s won and that there’s no point in asking him to yield, Mikuru drops her sword and kneels beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

“N-No...” Aziru gets out, and it’s the truth. The steadily receding pain isn’t so bad and he is quickly regaining the ability to breathe. It’s the rising burn of anger, at Mikuru for defeating him again and at himself for being too weak to win, that truly hurts. He lost. He lost, for a fourth time. He can hear his mother’s disappointed voice now, can feel her eyes boring into him. She told him this can’t happen, and he has to fix it before he ends up with a repeat of three days ago. _That_ can’t happen again either. Aziru looks up at his friend, meeting her worried gray eyes with narrowed gold ones. “We’re going again,” he says, and part of his mind recognizes the flinty tone of his own voice as the one his mother uses when she is displeased. “Right now. Pick up your sword, let’s go!”

Mikuru steps back, startled at his sudden vehemence. “A-Aziru? Are you really all right? I’m sorry if I - “

Somehow her hesitance makes him even angrier. “What did I say!” he snaps, grabbing his own sword (he dropped it _again,_ he has to stop doing that) up and taking his stance. “Come on! Again, let’s _go!”_

“Why are you yelling at me?!” Mikuru snaps back, pointedly kicking her sword away from her. “You didn’t act like this last time I beat you!”

_Why won’t she understand?!_ he internally rages, and opens his mouth to say something else, when he’s brought up short by a firm but gentle hand taking hold of the arm brandishing the sword. “She’s right, you know,” Iyashi says, his voice steady and level. His eyes are narrowed as well, but not in anger, only in concern and puzzlement. “You _didn’t_ act like this the last time you lost. You handled it normally then, and now you’re about to pitch a fit over losing a practice fight. Did something happen between now and then?”

“No!” Aziru blurts - too quickly, he realizes a second too late, for it to be believable. “Nothing happened! I just want to win, that’s all!”

“You always want to win. It’s only now that you start acting like this. What’s different about now?”

“You can talk to us, Aziru,” Mikuru says placatingly, coming closer. Now that the idea’s entered her head that something might be bothering her friend, the concerned look in her eyes mirrors Iyashi’s. “If there’s anything wrong, we’ll help you fix it.”

“I...You...” he stammers, unable to figure out what to say next. He can’t find it in himself to shout at them anymore - they don’t understand, after all, and they’re only trying to help. For some reason he doesn’t want to tell them about Mother lecturing him, even though he can’t come up with any real reason why they shouldn’t know. “I just can’t lose any more, all right? I thought it was okay, but it’s not. All right?”

“No, not really,” Iyashi says bluntly. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden? Where did you get that idea?”

“Nowhere! It’s just how it is!”

“Uh-uh, kid, people don’t just do a complete one-eighty out of nowhere. Not without some kind of catalyst. Now, I don’t want to push you, but I do want you to tell me, what happened to make you think that it’s not okay to lose anything? That’s not a good mindset to have, you know.”

“You can tell us anything, Aziru,” Mikuru adds. “It’s okay, we’ll help you.”

Should he tell them? Should he not? How should he know? “I...I just don’t want to lose at all, ever! Mother never does!”

_“Sifu_ gave you that idea? Listen, kid, I know that’s the way she thinks, but - Wait.” Iyashi’s eyebrows raise in realization, and he lets go of Aziru’s arm. “Aziru. What happened when I left, after my session ended? Did she say something to you?” When Aziru stays silent, he presses, “She didn’t really give you a choice between training with her or training alone, did she?”

“...No,” he grudgingly admits, looking down at the grass, his stomach lurching and his throat clenching. “She...She told me...She didn’t like that I lost to Mikuru so much, and so I wasn’t allowed to train with her that day. I needed to put in extra work with the sword, so I did, and I worked and studied as much as I could...but I still lost. I know it hasn’t been much time, but still...” He feels his eyes starting to sting and he shuts them tight. “S-She’s going to be...She’s not going to like this.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Iyashi says firmly, startling Aziru. “I know what she believes about not accepting loss - I’ve had the same training as you, after all - but she’s definitely being too harsh about this.”

Aziru is about to protest, when his attention is drawn by a light touch on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you just say so?” Mikuru wants to know. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom. If it would be better, I could just let you win. No one has to know but the three of us.”

He’s so surprised by the genuine offer (after all, Mikuru loves to win just as much as he does) that it takes him a moment to process it. “That’s...That’s really nice of you...” he says, and then the rational part of his brain catches up with him and he shakes his head. “But I can’t let you do that, Miki. Whether I win or lose, I have to do it on my own merit. Telling you to downplay your skills just to make me look better wouldn’t be very honorable of me, would it?”

“...I guess not,” Mikuru agrees, her face falling at her solution being ineffective.

“We’ll figure something else out,” Iyashi assures her. Though his words are soothing, his arms are crossed and he is still clearly irritated. “But I still want to talk to Sifu about this. Everyone knows that you’ll bend over backwards to please her, and yet she gives you a hard time about something that doesn’t have anything to do with what she’s teaching you. It was just practice anyway, it didn’t really matter.” He cuts off Aziru’s second attempt at protest before it begins. “Don’t argue this time, kid. I respect Sifu as much as you do, but I still don’t think this is a good way to be teaching you. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but I’ll talk to her.” 

“If you think you really have to, Ash.” Aziru says resignedly. Arguing with him now is probably pointless. His bodyguard won’t hold back on a matter he thinks jeopardizes his charge’s well-being, even if he is making a bigger deal out of it than it actually is. He turns to Mikuru, as he starts to feel the first stings of embarrassment at how he treated her just now. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Miki,” he apologizes, forcing himself to look her in the face instead of shamefully averting his eyes like he wants to. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, especially not with you. It’s not bad that you’re better than me, so...please don’t think that?”

“I’m better with a sword. Not better than you,” Mikuru says brightly, not in a tone of praise, but more like she’s stating a simple fact. “Apology accepted!”

“Great!” An excited yip from behind them makes both children jump, and they turn to see their tigerwolves up on their feet and staring at them, tails wagging. Oh...He’d forgotten that they were watching. It probably isn’t good for them to see their masters fighting: even if they don’t really know what was going on, Mother and several of the keepers have told him that tigerwolves are very empathetic and intelligent. “Ah...Everything’s okay now, guys,” he tells Raiden and Shin’yuu, the latter of which he could swear is looking at him with a suspicious look in his eyes. “I’m not going to do that again. In fact, Miki...” He turns to address her directly. “Is it okay with you if we try sparring with firebending again? If you want to keep sparring at all and not just do something else.”

“It’s okay with me! You’re not the only one who wants to win, you know,” she informs him. “I have to get stronger too!”

Renewed enthusiasm running through him, Aziru takes a fighting stance once again. “I can help you out with that.”

Her smile turns impish as she does the same. “Just promise not to get upset when I win again!”

Instead of annoying him, this makes him laugh. “Only if you will!” he says, and without waiting for Iyashi’s call, the two of them throw themselves into another match.

~0~

From the look on Hashira’s face when she enters Mother’s study, Aziru knows right away that she’s here delivering an important report and very little of it, if any, will be good news. He puts down the book on lightningbending he was perusing (Mother has strictly forbidden him to start trying that until he turns twelve, the age she first started it, but he sees no reason not to know as much as possible about it first), and sits up straighter on the small couch beside the bookshelves. His input will be unwelcome unless asked for, but he should listen carefully. Mother seems to be more attentive as well. “I can tell I’m not going to like this, General,” she says. “Get it over with quickly.”

“Our strongholds near the Black Cliffs and Western Air Temple have been overcome,” Hashira says, with an impassive look on her face and a cold, professional tone in her voice. “Brigadier Generals Ryuzaki and Kenzou were compromised and killed by two spies, one in each fortress, who then created openings for Traitor Zuko’s soldiers to storm the places. Reinforcements were called before complete takeover, but thus far attempts to retake them have been unsuccessful.”

Mother’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I thought I had taken sufficient measures to prevent situations like this.”

“As did I. But it appears we were mistaken. What would you have us do?”

“I want security doubled in every base we have,” she replies immediately, steepling her fingers. “I want any surviving personnel of the Black Cliffs and Western Air Temple to give a full report on these incidents, and I want thorough investigations and questionings to take place in all outlying bases, to ensure that if anyone has turned traitor and aided them, they do not get away with their lives. I will _not_ have this repeated.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Hashira acquiesces, inclining her head. “I will see it done at once. Are there any additional orders?”

“Just one. Can you tell me who these spies were? It’s unlike you to leave out their names.”

Hashira hesitates for a moment, then obligingly answers. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, my lord; I don’t want to upset you. The one who infiltrated the Black Cliffs base and Western Air Temple base were Lady Mai and Lady Ursa, respectively.”

“What?!” Mother is on her feet so fast she almost knocks the inkwell off her desk, and Aziru shrinks back, startled. “We were told they were only serving as Zuko’s advisors! They’re not even supposed to be on the battlefield!”

“Apparently our informants are not quite as informed as we thought,” Hashira says grimly. “We aren’t yet sure how long they’ve been doing it, or if this is the only time, but they’ve been utilizing those unique skill sets of theirs to aid Traitor Zuko from the shadows. What’s more, we can’t catch them now even when we do take back our bases. As I’ve been told from the few who were able to escape, they left two of Zuko’s generals in charge, and then retreated back to the palace. They’ll be out of our reach until the next time they move out, and that’s assuming they will and that we’ll be able to detect them.” 

Mother sits back down, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples to stave off an approaching headache. “I’ll figure out what to do about those two,” she growls, managing to sound angry and weary at the same time. “We were planning to kill them both anyway, but this does complicate things somewhat. For now, just make sure that everyone in our territory is informed and on guard. If that’s all, then you’re dismissed.”

“As you wish. Though, are you sure you’re all right? This is personal to you, and like I said, I didn’t want to upset - “

“I’m fine!” Mother snaps. “Stop trying to coddle me, I can handle myself. _Dismissed.”_

“Yes, my lord.” Hashira bows and, with one last concerned glance at the Fire Lord and her son, she leaves the room as ordered. 

Mother doesn’t say anything to him, only glare at the papers on her desk as if they’re to blame, and Aziru lets the now-tense silence hang between them for a moment before tentatively speaking up. “Mother, are you really all right?”

She turns her fierce glare onto him, and he flinches back. “I said I was, didn’t I? You know I don’t like repeating myself, Aziru.”

“R-Right...” He knows who his aunt Mai is, the traitor who turned on Mother at the Boiling Rock to keep her from getting rid of Uncle Zuko, and he understands exactly why she has to be killed. But, he realizes, that is all he knows about Mai, and he knows next to nothing about his grandmother Ursa. By now he’s figured out that she is the person Mother is thinking of whenever her voice takes on that particular edge of bitterness, and that she sided with Zuko upon her return to the Fire Nation, but this still doesn’t tell him why Mother hates her as passionately as she does. She’ll never talk about it in a way that gives him any definitive answers, and he doesn’t dare go behind her back to ask someone else or press a subject that clearly angers her. He won’t press it...But maybe he can risk asking once. “Why do you hate Aunt Mai and Grandmother Ursa so much? I know they’re traitors, but it seems like you want them dead more than everyone else who fights for Uncle Zuko.”

Surprisingly enough, she answers him after only brief hesitation. “...Like General Taiyang said, with them it’s more personal than the rest,” she says, her voice low and brimming with contempt. She won’t look at him. “You might as well understand. I remember how when I was a child, and your grandmother was still around, how she would lambast your grandfather to the demons’ realm and back for favoring me over Zuko, when she had no problem doing exactly the same thing and calling herself the good parent for it. She was so quick to glorify her precious son for doing nothing and vilify me for becoming stronger than he was. That’s why you’re going to stay an only child, you know: I won’t give myself the chance to do the same thing. I still can’t understand what she was trying to do by it, but at least she could never trick me into thinking she gave a damn about me. As for your aunt, she was a different story...Mai and Ty Lee acted as if they were my friends, as if they actually cared about me, and then turned their backs on me at the first chance they got. The worst part is, I fell for it, just like I fell for it when your grandfather pretended to care about me. They’re just the same.” 

Her face is starting to soften, anger starting to give way to what looks like sadness, and her eyes are becoming hazy. “When I thought I actually had people on my side, like Zuko always did, I didn’t have any problem holding myself together. But after they all turned their backs on me...that was when...” 

He waits, alert and intrigued and more than a little uneasy, when her eyes flick back over to him and she jumps slightly, as if she’d forgotten she has an audience. “Aziru...” She sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair and returning to rubbing her forehead. “I need time to think,” she says in a clipped voice. “You can leave for now.”

“Yes, Mother.” Without hesitation, Aziru hops off the couch and makes for the door. Just as he’s about to step out of the room, he stops and turns back to his mother. He doesn’t know for sure what kind of a position he’ll leave her in if he goes now just like that, after she’d divulged something that she never had before, at least not to him. “Mother, I don’t know how much I can do...definitely not as much as Hashira can, but...if you need something from me, I’ll always be here for you. Not like them.”

The beginnings of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and he thinks he sees a spark of warmth in her eyes. “My good boy. You’re as little like them as it’s possible to be. Go on, now.”

Reassured, Aziru smiles back, and hurries off, hoping to slip in some time to play with Raiden and help him get the hang of jumping to catch things in midair, and what worry he had had dissipates before long. He knows what Mother can and has done to those who betray her before. Surely his aunt and grandmother - the whole rest of their family - will be no different. Surely, Mother will be able to power through this.

He should know by now that these things never happen so easily.

~0~

Late that night, Aziru has just convinced Raiden to stop trying to keep the game going in his room and get onto his pillow to sleep, blown out the candles, and changed into his pajamas, full of contented exhaustion and more than ready to climb into bed, when a noise from the end of the next hall, where his quarters end and Mother’s begin, reaches his ears. “Did you hear that?” he asks Raiden. “Did somebody shout just now?”

The little white tigerwolf’s pointy ears are perked, and for once he’s rigidly still as he looks at the door, on alert and trying, like his master, to figure out what he might have heard. For a split second, Aziru entertains the thought that it might have been nothing and it’s not worth going to check out. Then comes the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, that makes him jump and Raiden yelp. “I...I’m going to go find Mother!” Aziru exclaims, and dashes out the door and towards his mother’s room, trying to force down the fear making his stomach churn. He can only hope that it was just an accident, some clumsy servant knocking something over while finishing up their duties, and that it doesn’t mean that Mother or anyone else is hurt. However, as he runs into his mother’s quarters, he becomes aware that it’s strangely empty, and his heart twists as familiarity sets in. He prays to Agni that this doesn’t mean what he thinks it means - _not this again please anything but this_ \- but when he reaches his mother’s bedroom door and pushes it open a fraction, he sees that clearly the spirit has ignored him tonight.

Large shards of glass are scattered over the thin carmine carpet and smaller shards are lodged in his mother’s hand, striped scarlet with blood and still clenched in a fist. She’s breathing hard, as if she’s just been in a fight, and her eyes are stretched wide open as she stares at the shattered mirror, her body faintly trembling and locks of her loose hair plastered to her face with sweat. Aziru’s insides go cold - he’s seen this sort of thing enough times to know that he is not the person who can help here, and he’s just about to move away and run to go get that person when Mother, catching his reflection in what’s left of the mirror, turns and looks right at him. He freezes in place, fairly certain that his heart stopped beating for a second. 

What she gives him can’t technically be called a smile, but he supposes that’s what she meant it to be. “Aziru,” she drawls, and there’s that edge to her voice that’s just off, that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. With her undamaged hand, she beckons him forward. “Come now, no need to be nervous. Don’t hide from me.” 

Aziru takes a deep breath, weighing his options and trying to think through this rationally. This is not his mother, he reminds himself. Not really. This is someone else who, on occasion, takes the place of his mother when things get just a little too much for her to handle. Mother would never act this way, he knows that for certain, and she would never, ever hurt him. But this person is, more than anything else, unpredictable, and it’s best not to do anything that would upset her further. Best to do what she asks, just like he would with Mother usually. So he forces himself to push the door open all the way and step inside.

“Good boy,” she lilts. “I _know_ you’re not afraid of me. _Are_ you?” 

She looks almost amused as she waits for his answer, and he gets the feelings that honesty is not the best policy in this situation and that this is a dangerous topic in any case. “N...No,” he lies, as genuinely as he can. “I’m not afraid. B-But...Mother, your hand...Don’t you think you need help?” he asks, gesturing to the hand still dripping blood onto the carpet. 

“So concerned about your mother,” she says. “About _me,_ of all people. I’m touched. You really are one of a kind, aren’t you, my little dragon?”

_Don’t call me that. Not now. Not my mother not my mother not my mother._ “I...I-I don’t think so...Lots of people care about you, Mother.”

“Lots of people lie, too,” is her immediate reply. Her smile falters, and her eyes darken. “Ozai lied. Ursa lied. Mai, Ty Lee, and Zuko lied. They all made it seem like they loved me and then stabbed me in the back. How am I to know who’s really on my side and who’s just waiting for their chance to turn on me?” Her eyes move towards the mirror, and he hopes she can’t see anything in it but their reflections this time. “Even now they won’t leave me alone. They keep trying to deceive me further, trying to make me give in to them. They keep telling me that they really did care, that their intentions were purely good, and _I’m_ the one at fault...” The not-smile returns to her face as she looks back at him, and what might under any other circumstances be a reassuring tone comes into her voice. “But don’t worry, Aziru, Mother won’t let them. I have you, after all. My precious little son.”

This shouldn’t be happening. That sincere affection in her voice shouldn’t be making his stomach roil and his skin go cold with fear. “What do I have to do with it?” he manages. 

“Everything. You would never be deceitful, would you? No, you love your mother. Hurting me is the last thing you would ever do, isn’t it? My good boy, my Aziru.” She’s looking at him like he’s the most valuable thing in the world, and any other time, any other time at all, he would crave that kind of look. Now it only looks twisted. She laughs lightly, and the sound is hollow and empty. “I _love_ you, Aziru. I do,” she croons, and then starts laughing harder, as if at some kind of inside joke. Aziru feels his body start to shake. All he can do is stare; he doesn’t know what to say. Mother never says such things to him: her philosophy is that actions say more than pretty words ever can. But why is it so funny to say that she loves him? Is it...It _is_ true, isn’t it? It has to be true. Mother does love him, and she would never treat it like a joke. _Not my mother not my mother not my mother not my mother._

Before he has to listen to anything else, however, he hears quick footsteps in the hall behind him, and turns to see the (somewhat delayed) answer to his prayer standing in the doorway. “Hashira...”

“Hello, Prince Aziru,” Hashira says, her voice carefully calm and level as she steps forward, discreetly placing herself between him and his mother. “It’s getting quite late, my prince,” she continues, keeping her eyes on Mother. “You must be tired. Why don’t you go back to your room now?”

“Hashira,” Mother mutters, her smile widening. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing, there. I’ve placed my trust in you, remember, don’t start to make me rethink that.”

“I remember. And rest assured that I am very grateful,” Hashira tells her, moving closer to her partner but deliberately not trying to touch her. “Now if you’ll let me demonstrate my loyalty, I would be even more grateful. There’s glass in your hand and I can’t tell how deep the cuts are, but I can remove it and stitch you up, just like last time. All right?”

That only makes Mother snicker again. _“Just_ like last time? You don’t even know what happened. Do you have _any_ idea, Hashira? Any at all?”

“I will if you’d like me to. You know you can talk to me about anything. I won’t ever judge you, only try to help you heal. Let me help you, Azula.”

A tiny, surprised noise escapes Aziru. In eight years, he’s heard Mother call Hashira only by her name a few times before, but he’s never heard Hashira call her anything other than ‘my lord.’ The sound makes the general glance back, and the look she gives him says clearly, _Why are you still here when I told you to go?_ He doesn’t have a good answer to that.

Aziru looks at his mother just long enough to ascertain that she’s not looking at him, takes one slow step back, then another, and when he’s not noticed he bolts out of the room and back down the hall the way he came, as fast as he can. He can hear Mother talking behind him, but as far as he can tell she’s addressing Hashira, so she either didn’t notice him running or doesn’t care at the moment. He keeps going and doesn’t stop until he’s back in his room with the door slammed shut behind him, and stands still there for a moment, still trembling and trying to slow his labored breathing. Raiden comes to his master’s side immediately, ears flat against his head and a quizzical expression on his face, and paws at his leg while whimpering nervously. He reaches down to give the tigerwolf a few quick strokes on his head, knowing it’s a weak attempt at calming him, and then he hears similar noises coming from outside. Crossing the room and opening up his window a crack, he sees through the darkness that Ikari (for once left outside for the night) has come to the edge of the tigerwolf enclosure and is staring straight up at where he knows Mother’s window is. His tail is sticking straight out, parallel with the ground, and he’s letting out one pained whine after another: he doesn’t know what exactly is happening to his mistress, but he knows it’s nothing good, and he must be worried sick.

Aziru sighs, closing the window and climbing back into bed, pulling the covers over his head. Raiden follows under the thick blankets with him, cuddling up to his master and nuzzling at his neck in an attempt at comfort. “Don’t worry, boy,” Aziru assures him, scratching him behind the ears. “It’ll be okay. Hashira knows how to help Mother. At worst, we just won’t see her tomorrow, and that only happened once before, remember?” Raiden whines again, but relaxes against him and closes his eyes. Aziru, feeling about ten times more exhausted than he had before, decides to do the same, but unlike his pet he cannot fall asleep.

That’s how Hashira finds him an hour and a half later, curled up under the blankets and keeping his eyes closed, hoping she will think he’s sleeping and leave - he likes her very much, but he doesn’t want to talk right now. She pulls back the blanket to uncover his head, her fingers gently run over his hair, and all of a sudden feels like crying at the similarity to his mother’s favored gesture of affection. Hashira may verge on being a second mother to him, but she can’t come close to the genuine article, the one he wants the most right now.   
“Prince Aziru, I’m fairly certain that you’re awake right now, but I can tell you’re not quite up for a conversation at the moment, so I’ll make this quick. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” she begins, as soothingly as she can. “First of all, your mother is more or less all right. She’s sleeping now, and I’ll be with her for the rest of the night and as far into tomorrow as I have to, to make sure she’s recovered from this particular episode. You don’t need to worry about that, I have it all under control. Now, I don’t know why you were in there to begin with, but my guess is that you were worried about your mother. I understand that you want to make sure she’s not hurt, but I am her partner and I will be the one to worry about that for the time being. You are her child, and her problems are not and should not be your responsibility to deal with. So next time you think something like this is happening, the first and only thing you should do about it is _come and get me,_ and _I_ will deal with it. You understand?”

At first, Aziru wants to protest the insinuation that he is not capable of keeping her from harm, and then it hits him that that’s entirely true. All his training is, in part, to keep their family from ever hurting them again, and one day he will be able to cut them all down, but fire and lightning cannot kill the demons that plague his mother. He is completely helpless against them. With this realization sinking in, the short nod of assent he gives Hashira is punctuated with a tiny, unwitting whimper. When she responds, he can picture the pity in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, softly and sadly, giving his hair another stroke. “It’s okay now. It’s a difficult path to recovery from issues like the ones your mother is dealing with, but I promise you that she’s making more than steady progress, even if it doesn’t look that way. I promise.” When Aziru doesn’t react - feeling that she may be exaggerating at best - she takes it as a sign that their one-sided conversation is over. “What I said to your mother applies to you too, Prince Aziru. If you need someone to talk to, I will always be here for you. You can come to me for anything. I want you to know that.” She pauses, he hears her bending down, and then feels a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head. “I love you as dearly as I love Mikuru, and I will keep you safe as well. Sleep soundly, my prince.”

With that, she leaves, closing the door quietly behind her, and Aziru curls up tighter into himself. He has to admit, Hashira _did_ just make him feel a little better. And with the reassurance that he can come to her for anything, he’s at least relieved of the one small worry that if he had one of his nightmares, there would be no one he could go to for comfort with his mother – who always hears him and comes to him, who is always willing to stay with him until he falls back to sleep - temporarily out of commission. What he had hoped would be a one-time occurrence had wound up evolving into a constantly recurring annoyance that woke him up screaming at least three times a week, at images of himself, Mother, or his friends having their lives, bending, or both stolen from them. Any combination of those elements, really. Very, very rarely, they revolve around the person he saw tonight, that perverse version of Mother, remaining for much longer than a day and consuming his mother’s true personality completely. Those are the only ones he tries to force from his mind, and the ones he expects to have tonight.

But when he does finally fall asleep, it is dreamless.

~0~

By the morning, even though all seems to have reverted back to normal, Aziru still feels the heavy weight of unease in his stomach as he gets dressed and goes to the family’s dining room for breakfast. Until he sees Mother as she usually is, as she _should_ be, he knows it won’t go away. He is second to last to arrive - Iyashi and Hashira are already there, and Mikuru has eaten early and gone out to start training - but it’s not long until Mother arrives too, and all of a sudden the room fills with almost palpable tension. He examines her face closely as she sits down next to Hashira: she looks a little distracted, perhaps lost in thought, but nothing he would count as a bad sign. 

“Good morning, Sifu!” Iyashi greets her brightly. He’s giving her a smile, but Aziru can see the nervous look in his eyes as he deliberately keeps them off the lines of stitches in her right hand. No doubt Hashira’s filled him in on what happened last night. They all know about what happens to Mother from time to time, but there is an unspoken agreement among them (at least, Aziru thinks there is) that they do not talk about it, especially in front of her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Iyashi, thank you,” she says levelly, not looking at him. That unnerving edge from last night is gone, at least. “And I think you should know, I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day.”

“R-Really? You said you had your reasons, and I completely understand, so I didn’t think you’d - “

“I suppose you had a good point as well,” Mother cuts him off. “From now on, I will try to turn a blind eye to what you boys do or fail to do when you practice on your own time. However...” She looks up then, and fixes both Iyashi and Aziru with the sharp gaze she always does during their lessons. “This does not mean I will tolerate any slacking off during our training sessions. My goal is to make you strong, and strength is all I will accept from both of you. Do you understand?”

“We understand!” they say simultaneously, nodding assent, and she looks pleased.

From there, the four of them proceed into their usual morning chatter, the tension surrounding his mother steadily dissipating. Iyashi goes on about how he taught himself a couple new archery trick shots and he thinks some of the nobles’ daughters were watching him do them; Hashira (though there’s approval in her eyes at his skill) admonishes him not to be a showoff; Aziru, trying not to let caution show in his voice, tells his mother about how he thinks he’s ready to learn how to make flame daggers; Mother agrees wholeheartedly and promises that they’ll get to it that afternoon, and of course he’ll have to demonstrate to her again that he’s mastered everything else she’s taught him before they move onto something new, but she doesn’t think he’ll have any problem doing that. 

To look at them, one wouldn’t think that anything out of the ordinary had happened last night. And as far as any of them would say out loud, nothing had. Some time, he thinks, he might go to Hashira in private to talk about it, if he really had to. But really, Aziru prefers it this way. In his mind, the less it’s discussed, the easier it is for him to push it out of his mind and convince himself that that’s not things are. His mother is perfect, flawless, and there’s no problem she can’t fix. That is how it should be and he will tell himself until he believes it that that is how it is.

~0~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a long chapter...so many words...Why does this always happen to me?!
> 
> Before we finish, let’s talk voice actors for a second, or, at least, what voices some of the OCs would have if this weren’t just a fanfic:
> 
> Young Aziru - Ryan O’Donohue
> 
> Young Mikuru - Tara Strong
> 
> Iyashi - Quinton Flynn
> 
> Hashira - Trina Nishimura
> 
> I hope the next update won’t take quite as long as this one...Comments, please?


	9. Golden Eyes and Silver Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - My goodness, I just realized: this story’s halfway over already! I can’t believe it’s been almost a year and a half since I first started writing it. I originally planned it as a series of quick little oneshots (in the vein of the Soul Eater fic Something Sweet by Hillside Dancing Down), which is why the first few chapters are so short, and now look how HUGE it’s gotten!
> 
> Anyway. This is kind of a dialogue-heavy chapter, but I don’t think it will slow down the pace too much. I actually really like how this one turned out. :)

_And you will expose his puppeteer behavior, for you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty._

He is nine, and he goes to her with a question that has been gnawing at the back of his mind. "Who was my father? I had one, didn't I?"

She turns slowly in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow at him. "Of course you had one. You know that. Don't be foolish," she says tersely.

Is he treading on dangerous ground? Aziru can't tell, but he presses it anyway. "Yes, but who was it?"

His mother looks him right in his eyes, and she's silent for so long he thinks he's said something wrong and is about to apologize, when she starts to speak again. “Strictly speaking, he isn’t worth much to me. Hashira and I cannot have children together, so in order to produce an heir of proper royal blood, I had to use somebody as a substitute to create you. That’s all he is to me, just a means to an end, but if it’s important enough to you to ask me, then I suppose I should tell you a little about him. Shouldn’t I?” 

“Only if you want to,” Aziru says politely, internally shouting _yes yes yes you should._

"Well...You don't look much like him." Her voice is slow, careful, contemplative. "Your hair, your face, your bending prowess...Everything you have is from me. Save for those eyes of yours, of course; they’re much brighter than mine.”

Aziru nods. He’s well aware of his near-perfect resemblance to her. One time, he remembers, he’d overheard Hashira whispering playfully to Mother, “Well, now we know what you’d look like male, don’t we?”, and Mother giving only a light laugh in response. 

“Sometimes, though...I'll find something new that's just like him."

"Like what?" 

"It's always a small thing. But then in that one thing, the resemblance is uncanny. Like...when you're annoyed at something and you give that stubborn look...it feels as if he's the one looking at me. He always was a resilient and headstrong man, if not a very intelligent one. But it doesn’t matter any more. He was a good choice as far as siring you went, but quite unnecessary to both of us now. It’s been better with just you and I, hasn’t it?” 

Well, he can’t exactly say no to that. He nods again, not knowing what to say next, or if he should say anything at all. Asking a third time for the mysterious man's identity wouldn't be a good idea: even though Mother said that he was unimportant, if she hasn't told him by now, then she probably has a good reason to keep him in the dark. He knows he shouldn't pry or he'll regret it. But she is still staring into his eyes. She has never looked at him so _intently_ before, and Aziru wonders who she is seeing instead of him.

~0~

Looking down at the clear, shimmering surface of the training pool, Aziru can't help but shudder. His body, bare save for a pair of red swim trunks, is still shivering even out of the chill water. He knows this sort of training, like all the rest, is for his own benefit: for making him a stronger swimmer, making him better able to handle harsh waters, making him as invulnerable to his natural opposite and weakness as possible. But still, just because he knows it’s ultimately for the best and that he has to do it, doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“Are you all right, Aziru?” Mother asks, still sitting on the side of the pool; it’s a small one, but very deep, and adequate for their training. She picks up one of the weights Aziru had untied from his ankles and wrists and then dropped to the floor, testing the load her son has been bearing over seemingly-countless laps. “You don’t need these any lighter right now? You don’t need us to go easier next time, do you?”

Though those sound like a wonderful ideas to him, he shakes his head. He’s stronger than that. “No, it’s fine the way it is. Actually, I think we should move up to heavier ones soon.”

She smiles, knowing he’s not being entirely truthful but (hopefully) approving of his desire to better himself. “I’ll consider it. For now, just focus on not getting sore. You know where the towels and ice are.”

While Aziru goes and wraps up chunks of ice to hold against his aching limbs, Iyashi, who despite being finished with his own training and now relieved of his job as Aziru’s lifeguard is still leisurely swimming back and forth, takes a moment to stop and ask his sifu a question. “Hey, Sifu, not that I’m objecting or anything, but is it really necessary to have us swimming around with weights all over us? I mean, I know it’s supposed to make us stronger swimmers, but what other purpose does it serve?”

“You never know what could happen in a fight, Iyashi, and you need to be especially prepared for what you don’t expect to happen. For example, what if you ended up knocked off a high place into deep water? Armor is much heavier than it looks, and if you don’t know how to keep afloat even while weighed down, it could be the end of you.”

Iyashi nods, treading water. “I can see that...But with all due respect, it doesn’t sound too probable to me. There aren’t many battles that happen on cliffs near coastlines outside of the navy, and neither of us are training for that.”

“True. But as I said, you must be prepared for everything. The worst things tend to happen when you least expect them. And believe me, you two may well need this training in particular.” Her eyes narrow and she glances away from Iyashi. “I was in full armor when my fat bastard of an uncle nearly drowned me,” she hisses bitterly, clearly not wanting to recall it. “And foolish as I was, I didn’t see his attack coming at all. One moment I was about to take Zuko down, and the next thing I knew I was falling off the ship into the ocean.” Mother lifts her head up and addresses both boys, her tone commanding once more. _“That’s_ an important thing to remember as well, and one I haven’t yet figured out how to best train you for: do not underestimate any opponent, ever. No matter how weak or stupid they come across as, because you never know if they really are the sort of person they act like. Do you understand?” 

Both of them assure her that they do, and, looking pleased, she starts to say something else, but is distracted by a knock on the doorframe behind them. “My apologies for interrupting, my lord,” Hashira says as she steps in. “But there’s something I should inform you of as soon as possible, about the representatives arriving here for the negotiations today.”

“Oh? What is it?” Mother asks, as Iyashi swims up to and leans on the pool’s edge to listen better.

Aziru’s curiosity is sparked as well. Apparently, his uncle has started trying to negotiate peace terms with them, and though Mother scoffs at it, knowing that giving in to him this way will be no different than being defeated in battle and will earn them nothing, she agreed to one talk (and only one, she’s made sure to specify) anyway, to try and see if she can figure out through his representatives why he’s suddenly so interested in peaceable agreements. She and Hashira have mulled over a few theories - of them, Aziru agrees with the one that Zuko is trying to end the war in a way that will both give him more power and make him look like the more moral and reasonable person, Mikuru thinks it’s that he’s actually weakening faster than they thought and can’t hold out much longer, and Iyashi thinks that he’s just using it as an excuse to sneak some of his spies inside their stronghold. Whatever the reason, Aziru knows that Mother won’t let it turn out the way Uncle Zuko wants.

Hashira continues, “It turns out that there’s been a last-minute change in the lineup. The good news is, we’ll have only one of Traitor Zuko’s people to contend with. The bad news is, it’s Prince Iroh.”

Startled, Aziru immediately turns to look at his mother. It would be an understatement to say that their family is a sensitive topic for her, and he doesn’t know how she’ll react to the prospect of actually interacting with one of them for the first time in years. But it doesn’t seem like he has anything to worry about just yet. Her body is tense and her eyes are narrowed, but they are perfectly clear and sharp. She’s fine, he tells himself, he’s overreacting. Nothing will happen. Nothing will happen. Nothing will -

“Well,” Mother says coolly, jolting Aziru out of his internal mantra. “Speak of a demon and he shall appear, it seems. Thank you for telling me, Hashira. Everything else is prepared, I assume?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then I suppose I should be getting myself ready now.” Mother pulls her legs out of the water and gets up, starting for the door. “And boys, remember the rules,” she reminds them over her shoulder. “You may do as you like during the meeting, but you are not to interfere with any part of it.”

With that, she leaves with Hashira at her heels, and Aziru turns to Iyashi. “Do you think she’ll be okay with this?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine; Iroh’s not all that important to her. Now, if it were your grandma or one of your aunts coming, then we’d have a problem. But they’re not, so we don’t,” he assures him, with an awkward shrug. 

That makes sense, Aziru thinks, and takes his mother’s vacated spot on the edge of the pool. “I guess we’re not going to be training much more today,” he says, somewhat disappointed. “Once you’re done swimming, do you want to go to the library for a little while? Ning told me the other day that they just got some new mythology books in.” 

“Ah...If it’s okay with you, kid, I’d rather not,” Iyashi replies. “You know how Niku’s always skulking around there - slacking off to chat with his girlfriend, might I add! Which _I_ would never do!”

“Because you don’t _have_ a girlfriend, Ash.”

“Hey!” Iyashi yelps, and Aziru can’t hold back laughter at the look on his face. “Not yet, at least! And if my brother, hands down the biggest jerk in this place, can get a girl who actually likes him, then there’s no reason why I couldn’t!”

“All right, all right, I never _said_ you couldn’t,” Aziru says, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence. 

“...Truth be told, I can’t see why any girl would want me in particular, aside from me being the Fire Lord’s student,” Iyashi says in a softer, thoughtful tone. “But maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“I’m sure you will, Ash.”

“Maybe. It must be nice to be in love with somebody. You know, with some people, it seems like it makes you try to be a better person. I mean, Niku’s still mean as a snake to me, but I guess I’m a special case to him. But whenever I see him with Ning, he’s all smiling and sweet and everything, and they’re always looking for some excuse to meet up and talk. That sounds pretty nice.”

“I guess so,” Aziru says noncommittally. He’s never understood all the fuss people make over romance and relationships and all that. He knows that his mother and Hashira are happy with and supportive of each other, and that it’s something that Iyashi wants and Mikuru finds exciting, but he still doesn’t think he quite gets it.

“Yeah. They’re always slipping notes into the books Niku checks out and brings back. He didn’t see me - he’d probably have yelled at me if I had - but I saw him reading one once and grinning like a moron, I guess they’re love letters or something like that. I don’t know if I’d be that sappy with my girlfriend, but I’ll admit it’s kind of cute.”

Aziru shrugs. “If you like that kind of thing. Come on...” He gets up and walks toward the side room where their clothes and larger towels are. “Let’s go dry off and then we can find something to do. You want to play some pai sho for a bit? I think I’m getting better at it.”

“Yeah, you are. All right, sounds good...” Iyashi pulls himself out of the pool and follows him, leaving a wet trail on the stone floor. “Right behind you, kid.”

Once they’ve towelled off and gotten dressed, they start for Aziru’s room, but are unexpectedly stopped halfway there. “Prince Aziru? Iyashi? May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure, Hashira,” Aziru says, making sure to keep his uneasiness off of his face and his voice as casual as possible. “What is it? Is Mother all right?”

“The Fire Lord is perfectly fine, don’t worry about that,” Hashira replies comfortingly. “She would just like me to pass along one more instruction: at exactly noon today, you are to report to the outdoor training courts, and be sure to wear your training clothes.”

Aziru tilts his head to the side, puzzled. “Okay, I’ll do that...But did she tell you why?”

Hashira shakes her head. “No, unfortunately. She only mentioned that she wants to see some specific forms of yours again before her meeting begins, but she did look as if she had something more substantial planned. I would be prepared for anything she may ask you to do.”

“Well, _that_ won’t exactly be difficult for me.”

“Of course not. I would expect nothing less of you, my prince,” the general says with a smile. “Good day to you both.” 

As she leaves, Aziru and Iyashi exchange a questioning glance. “I wonder what’s up?” Iyashi says.

 

“I don’t know...But I’d better get ready now. Come on.” As he hurries off to his room, Mother’s earlier words replay in his head: _You must be prepared for everything._ She’s given him advice like that before, never wanting her son to be caught off guard and overcome by anything, he supposes. Most likely, this is only another reminder that he must always keep that particular piece of advice in mind at all times.

~0~

Though still confused by his mother’s order, Aziru makes sure to be at the outdoor training courts at noon exactly, and so he is further confused by the fact that it appears to be completely empty. 

“Do you think we’re early?” Iyashi wonders out loud. “Because I know we’ve got the right court.”

“It’s fine, Iyashi.” Aziru turns to see his mother standing on one of the lower balconies above the courtyard. In lieu of robes or any other such finery, she’s chosen to wear her royal armor for this meeting. “This won’t take too long, but before I have to go in, Aziru, I just want to watch you firebend for a little while. It’ll give me something to talk about, should the conversation turn to the crown prince. I want you to show me every kata I’ve taught you so far, in order. Not just from the beginning of the latest set, like usual, but from the beginning of your training in general. Can you do that for me?”

For a second, Aziru is too startled to respond. He’s used to repeating every move from the sets his mother teaches him to prove he’s experienced enough to learn something new, but every single one he knows? All at once? Mother has never asked something like this of him before, and he doesn’t quite understand the request, the purpose behind it, or the odd, anticipatory gleam in her eyes. But an order is an order, he reasons, and it’s not like he hasn’t done all of them a thousand times over already in training. He quickly wipes the surprise off his face and answers, “Yes, Mother, I can do that.”

She smiles. “Good boy. Begin.”

Iyashi steps to the sidelines to give him room, and Aziru drops into the first stance. From there, it’s easier than he expected to go through all the forms he’s learned. Most of it is simple recollection and muscle memory. For the next few minutes, as he moves around the court, his world is reduced to only himself and the fire streaming from his hands and feet, warming the air around him. It is a natural and comfortable feeling, and it it enough to drown out the familiar fear that gnaws at the back of his mind whenever Mother’s expectant gaze is trained on him, watching like a hawk for any slip-ups; the fear that he will finish and turn around to see disappointment in those eyes at some barely perceptible mistake, even if she doesn’t actually say or do anything about it. 

It doesn’t happen often. But enough that the fear is always there. However, losing himself in the well-practiced motions of low punches, high kicks, quick spins, and burning strikes, he can try to make himself forget it. 

Before long, he’s finished (if he made any mistakes, he didn’t notice) and he turns back to his mother, folding his hands and bowing to her as a respectful student should. That’s how this sort of thing always goes, and he doesn’t expect to see anything different when he looks up at her. But he is startled to see that there is someone else beside her now that hadn’t been before, and even more startled to recognize who this person is.

“So, Iroh,” Mother says loftily, with one of the most smug smiles Aziru thinks he’s ever seen. “I doubt either of Zuko’s children have progressed so well as my Aziru.”

There’s no way that the remark didn’t anger Iroh, or worry or disturb or at least annoy him. But he remains perfectly calm and impassive. “Oh, I assure you, my niece: Crown Princess Izuna is advancing at a marvelous pace. I would not be surprised to find that she and her brother are their cousin’s equals.”

Mother’s smile does not falter one bit. “So you would think.”

“In any case, you have not invited me here to make an exhibition of your son - at least, I hope that was not the main reason. Shall we proceed to negotiations?”

Mother agrees, and with one last look at her still-staring son (whose heart leaps at the pure pride in her eyes) she and her uncle leave. After a moment, Aziru realizes that his mouth is still hanging open, and snaps it shut, giving himself a quick shake. From behind him, Iyashi laughs, and Aziru turns to see a crooked smile on his bodyguard’s face. 

“Nice job, kid,” he says approvingly, stepping forward and ruffling his charge’s hair. “I bet the old man was impressed even if he wasn’t going to admit it. I know Sifu was.”

“Yeah...Yeah, she was!” Aziru agrees, brightening for a moment. The moment is darkened, however, by one thought. “But...What would she have thought of me if I’d screwed up somehow? What would she have done then?”

For just a split second, the corners of Iyashi’s mouth droop, and then he perks right back up again. “Relax, it’s nothing to worry about. Sifu only did this because she knew you wouldn’t screw up, especially if you didn’t realize anyone else was watching. She believes in you!”

He supposes that makes sense. But still, imagining what might have happened if he hadn’t performed as expected when Mother was trying to make an important point, a demonstration of his superior skill, to their enemy makes him shudder. So he changes the subject to something that interests him more, that occurred to him a couple hours before at the pool and hasn’t left his head since. “Say, Iyashi, this is the first time that someone from Uncle Zuko’s inner circle has come here, right?”

“I think so, as far as I can remember,” Iyashi replies. “They should be grateful that Sifu is good enough to allow them here now.”

“So this is the first real chance I have to personally talk to one, right?”

“Well, ye - _Ohhh,_ no, kid, Sifu made it very clear that we’re not supposed to bother her during official business!”

Aziru can’t keep the mischievous smile off his face. “But we’re not _going_ to bother Mother. And we won’t do anything _during_ the meeting. We could try and catch Great-uncle Iroh on his way out. She’ll never have to know.”

“What do you mean, _we?_ There is no _we_ here!” insists Iyashi, crossing his arms and shaking his head for emphasis. “I can appreciate that you want to give the old man a piece of your mind, but as much as I want to, too, I’m not going to help you do it if it means breaking Sifu’s rules.”

“What are you talking about? We won’t be breaking any rules at all,” Aziru points out. “I think I’ve found a very convenient loophole we can slip through.”

“No, no loopholes! And no _we!”_ Iyashi protests. “I don’t care if you _are_ the prince, I am your bodyguard and I am not letting you go behind Sifu’s back!”

~0~

“I swear to you on my mother’s grave, kid, if we catch heat from Sifu because of this, I’m selling you down the river. I’ll say you forced me into it!”

Aziru rolls his eyes as the two of them make their way through the passages of the stronghold, taking a route that guarantee they’ll stay away from Mother. “You know, you don’t _have_ to do this, Ash. Like you said before, you’re my bodyguard. Your highest priority is my safety, not my happiness. You could stop me if you really felt that you had to, so I think that you actually want to do this even if you won’t admit it.”

Iyashi huffs. “Yeah, right. I know you well enough by now to know that if I don’t come with you, you’ll just sneak off on your own, and then where would you be without me to watch your back?”

“Aw, Ash, have a little more faith in me than that,” Aziru says in a mock-hurt tone, but he has to admit that there’s very little inaccuracy in the older boy’s words. “Come on, I think we’re close.”

When they reach one of the main halls by the front entrance, he catches sight of the ex-general, flanked by two of Zuko’s Imperial Firebenders. (Maybe a show of Iroh’s strength, that he only needs the two even here? Mother does something similar by only having Hashira beside her whenever she feels she needs protection, or more often acting as if she only has Hashira when she has several other guards hidden but alert and ready to strike.) He steps forward confidently, trying to imitate his mother’s way of moving. “Great-uncle Iroh!” he calls, and all three turn turn their heads to look at him, taken aback. Well, Iroh seems to be, at least. He can’t tell what the guards look like behind their masks. “I hope you aren’t in too much of a hurry to get back to the royal palace,” he says cordially as he walks up to him. “I wanted to take some time to speak with you.”

His great-uncle gives him that same impassive look for a moment, studying his niece’s young son, and then his face splits into a bright, amiable grin. “I am in no rush at all, Prince Aziru. What is it you’d like to speak about?”

_His smile hides a dagger,_ Mother had said of this man once. _You cannot for an instant believe it’s genuine._ He does not intend to. But still, this conversation, however it goes, will be worth quite a lot to him. “My mother always told me that you and Uncle Zuko and Aunt Mai and the rest of our family took the throne from her and surrendered to the other nations because you’re spiteful and selfish. Everyone else here agrees with her, and I’m not trying to say that I don’t, but I’m pretty sure you feel differently and I thought I’d try and find out your perspective on all this.”

_All right, great-uncle. You’ve got one chance to help me understand how you guys think. And from your point of view, one chance to change my mind. How are you going to use it...?_

Surprise flashes in Iroh’s eyes. “Well, it would be my pleasure to explain to you. It is quite refreshing to have such an open-minded great-nephew, who is willing to alter his own perspective based on the facts. First of all, I must assure you that your uncle Zuko is not the man I know your mother has made him out to be. He is a good person, who only wants the best for the Fire Nation. I and the rest of your family - barring your mother, of course - support him because we believe the same things.”

“And so by comparison, are you saying that Sifu Azula is a bad person, who doesn’t want the best for our people?” Iyashi says, his eyes narrowing. “That’s low, old man, insulting a kid’s mom right to his face.”

“I assure you, my boy, I meant no insult to your master. However - “

“Let’s not get into that right now,” Aziru cuts in. He knows he has to keep in control of this conversation, and to do so he must control his temper and protective instinct. It’s no secret that his mother and great-uncle have no love for each other, and if Iroh badmouths his mother it’s liable to make him lose his composure, which he has to avoid if he wants to leave a good impression. Everything that Iroh experiences here will almost definitely go back to Zuko, and he can’t have the enemy knowing that the fastest way to make him lose control is to insult his mother. “Great-uncle, I’m still confused. You say that my uncle is trying to do what’s best for the Fire Nation. If that’s true, then why has he done so much to hurt the nation?”

“That’s a very general statement. I might understand better what you mean, if you could give specific examples...?”

Oh, he’s got lots of those. “Why did he turn traitor on the Day of Black Sun? Why did he help the Avatar fight our own people? Why did he allow the other nations to do whatever they want with us? Why did he steal the throne and try to keep his little sister locked up for the rest of her life? To me, those don’t sound like the kind of things a good person does.”

Iroh raises an eyebrow. “Your mother has been teaching you much more than impressive firebending forms, hasn’t she?”

“She has. Why are you avoiding my questions?” _Will I not like the answers?_

“You are an astute young man, aren’t you, Prince Aziru? I believe it would be best if I explained one point at a time. Firstly, Zuko allied himself with Avatar Aang in order to help the Fire Nation. He knew that he had to end the war if peace and balance were ever to be returned to the world. Understand, Prince Aziru, that a world dominated by one nation alone cannot ever be truly peaceful. Before we started the Hundred Year War, there always were four, and there must always be four.”

“No, I don’t understand,” Aziru says. He knows he’ll be discredited if he sounds as if he’s quoting from Mother’s history lessons - which he is about to do - so he does his best to make it sound as if these are his own words and not hers. “Surrender has never been a viable option for us. When great-great-grandfather Sozin started the war, he knew we couldn’t ever go back on that decision. Once we went ahead with it, we needed to see it through to the end, no matter how long it took.”

“Perhaps,” Iroh says. “But that was hardly Lord Sozin’s decision to make for all of his descendants.”

“...Maybe not,” Aziru grudgingly agrees. “But whether it was or not, it’s something we as a nation have to stick to, since we’re too far gone to turn back without suffering for it. And Uncle had no right to turn his back on that. You said that he wants peace, but the other nations sure don’t. They only want to punish us and hurt us, and Uncle’s just _letting_ them.”

“The kid’s got a point,” Iyashi chimes in. “You really think letting the Fire Nation become the world’s chew toy is preferable to uniting the world under us, and helping it progress?”

“I would not say it quite so subjectively, but yes.” _(At least he admits it,_ thinks Aziru). ‘We must pay recompense for all we have done over the past hundred years. Fire Lord Zuko understands and accepts this, and he knows that the road to true peace will be a long and rocky one, but he also has faith in the Fire Nation and the rest of the world to reach it.”

“But that’s not Uncle’s call to make,” Aziru insists. “Even less than it was Lord Sozin’s. He’s not the rightful Fire Lord, my mother is. Uncle is just a usurper.”

If he hadn’t been listening for it, he wouldn’t have noticed Iroh’s voice turn just a bit colder. “I’m afraid I must disagree with you on that point, great-nephew. As the eldest son of the previous Fire Lord, the throne is Zuko’s birthright. It has always belonged to him, and never to your mother.”

Iyashi looks ready to start shouting at that, but Aziru, while pushing aside thoughts of stabbing his great-uncle’s throat out for the lie, cuts his bodyguard off. “Maybe that’s how it was at first, but like I said before, Uncle turned traitor. When he did that, he was stripped of his title as crown prince and knocked out of the line of succession. That’s true, isn’t it?” He takes Iroh’s silence as a yes. “Then he doesn’t have any right to the throne at all. And besides,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Mother says that the tradition of deciding who should be Fire Lord based only on accident of birth is outdated and just stupid. It should be the person who’s most qualified to rule that does.”

Iroh frowns at his niece’s words coming from the mouth of her son, and Iyashi snickers. “Maybe not something a firstborn could wrap his head around, hmm?”

“No, I believe that my niece and her followers are putting forth a decent argument,” Iroh allows. “However, it has one fairly large flaw. The fact of the matter, as we all agree, is that the nation needs rulers who will guide it on the right path. Regardless of birth order, Zuko is the one who is doing what is best for our people.”

“And Sifu’s not?!” Iyashi bursts out, clenching his fists tightly. 

“To be quite honest with you, no, she is not.”

“At least Mother was always loyal to the Fire Nation,” Aziru shoots back, letting venom seep into his voice. “At least she wouldn’t cheat her way onto the throne. At least she’s trying to protect our people from someone who doesn’t care what happens to them!”

“Prince Aziru, think about what you are saying.” He is surprised to hear a faint note of alarm in the man’s voice. “You are young, but you seem very intelligent and mature for your age. Are you truly willing to restart a world war on the whim of your mother?”

“If it’s what’s best for the nation, then yes,” Aziru says, nodding emphatically. “It’s like what Iyashi told me one time.”

“Huh? Me?” the older boy says, raising his eyebrows. “When did I say something important?”

“Remember when you told me that the reason Mother should be in charge is because she’s stronger than everyone else?” Aziru reminds him. 

“Yeah, but - Kid, that was _two years ago._ You’ve been thinking about that for this long?” Iyashi seems surprised, but still quite touched.

“A lot, actually. And I think that the reason that is, is because if you have the one who’s strongest on the top, then you have the most powerful person in the best position to use that power to protect everybody, like a good ruler should do.”

“You think that your mother is that kind of person?” says Iroh skeptically. 

“I know that Uncle’s not,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes. “A prince lives for his people! His only concern should be their well-being! That’s the purpose of those born into the royal family. And Uncle Zuko hasn’t done that at all.”

“From what your mother has told you, that is how it would seem. But she is more than a little biased,” Iroh points out. “She’s been giving you quite a slanted point of view.”

“Oh, and I suppose you and Zuko haven’t been doing the exact same thing with his kids? You can honestly tell me you’re not making them think he’s this great, pure, valiant hero and Sifu’s the one only fighting out of spite?” says Iyashi sarcastically. “Give me a break, old man. You don’t have any right to attack my sifu like that.”

Iroh is silent for a moment, considering the combative boy in front of him. “You are very outspoken for a mere bodyguard, and very young for one too. Might I ask how you got into this position? It seems somewhat uncharacteristic of my niece to put someone like you in charge of her only son.”

“Hmph. And how would you know that? It’s not as if you bothered to know Sifu at all. She always said you only favored Zuko because you could use him to replace the son you got killed, and just wrote her off as a crazy copy of Ozai.”

“I am sorry she feels that way.” Iroh keeps his voice carefully neutral at the mention of his son. “And I see that she has been teaching you a few things as well.”

“More than a few,” brags Iyashi, smirking. “She trains me personally, to make sure that I’m strong enough to protect the kid here. Except for him, I’m the only one she would ever do that for. She realized I had potential that wasn’t going to be used unless she did something, and she chose me. Do you have any idea how important that is?”

“I am beginning to,” says Iroh, but Aziru suspects that he is not drawing the conclusions that Iyashi wants him to. 

“Sifu was the first person who paid attention to me and didn’t treat me like trash. You were a general - did you ever meet Captain Gyuniku Yumiya?”

Aziru tenses, knowing what’s coming and hating it. Iroh’s eyebrows raise at the mention of the infamously brutal soldier. “I had that misfortune once, yes. What is the connection between the two, exactly?”

“I’m his second son,” Iyashi says. “I had the misfortune of living with him and his mirror image, my big brother Niku, for _years._ They wanted me around about as much as I wanted to be there; I wasn’t even supposed to be born. Even though I was an accident, and it got my dad angry, my mom insisted on having me too, and she...she ended up dying during birth. My whole life, Dad and Niku acted decent when people were around - for show, I guess - but really they treated me like I was lower than garbage, trying to punish me for what happened to Mom. I guess they still liked her even if they didn’t treat her all that well either, from what I’ve heard.”

“It is terrible that that happened to you,” Iroh says, these words much gentler than any up to this point. He almost sounds sincere. “No child should have to go through that.”

“Save your pity for now. It gets worse. This one night, when I was nine...I don’t really know why. I think Dad just lost it and didn’t want the person who killed his wife around any more.” Iyashi’s voice catches, and he pauses, his hand going up to where his neck meets his shoulder, to where Aziru knows is a pale, thick knife scar. “I would be dead if one of his friends hadn’t walked in at exactly the right time. They put Dad away for life, but it wasn’t much better when it was just me and my brother. Like I said: mirror image, just a lot smarter. My life wasn’t in danger (even though Niku wouldn’t mind me dying, he knows better than to finish what our dad started), but nothing really changed until three years ago, when Sifu happened to notice me practicing my archery. I’ve been training myself since I was around six, because I originally wanted to join the Yu Yan to get out of my old home, but Sifu told me that she could see talent in me that just had to be honed better, and if I would agree to train as Prince Aziru’s bodyguard, she would let me live and learn with her.” He smirks again, proud and self-satisfied. “Obviously my answer was yes. and she kept her word and I kept mine. Like the kid said, it’s a matter of the strong in power using it to protect the weaker ones, you see?”

“Ash, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go,” Aziru remarks. He’d had to hear the story over time, in bits and pieces that Iyashi seemed to have to force himself to say. _He must really want to make an impact if he’s willing to tell it all at once._

“Is it really?” Iyashi’s smirk turns to a sheepish smile for a moment, before reverting back. “So anyway, there’s your answer, old man, though it’s probably longer than you expected. Sifu was the first person who ever made me feel like it was okay for me to be alive, and her training me made me strong. Better than my father or my brother could ever hope to be. Now do you get why I just can’t believe what you and Zuko are saying about her? And why I won’t let you just walk in here and insult her?”

“Yes, I can see why you act so protectively,” Iroh muses. He certainly doesn’t look as pleased as Iyashi does, Aziru observes, nor very understanding. “And I see what your master is playing at. She took you in as a child who had nothing and had never before experienced affection, and made you indebted to her, so that you would latch onto her and be devoted to her no matter what else she did.”

Iyashi looks as if he’s been slapped. His smile goes tight, and his voice lowers menacingly. “Hey, now...What are you trying to pull, old man? I pour my heart out to make a point and you twist it around to please yourself? Sifu really was right about you!”

“I’m going to have to agree with Ash, great-uncle,” Aziru puts in coolly. He can now fully understand why Mother so detests this man. 

“Prince Aziru, please listen to me,” Iroh presses, turning his attention back to the younger boy. “I do not believe you know your mother as well as you think you do, and certainly not like the rest of our family and I do. As long as I have known her, she has been a dangerous person and adept at manipulation. There is a good chance that she is not who you believe she is. Has she told you about all the things she has done? How she very nearly murdered Avatar Aang and Zuko, a twelve-year-old child and her own brother?”

“Of course she has. She’s told us every detail,” says Aziru, jutting out his chin. “The Avatar was powerful enough to destroy an entire fleet in a minute at the Siege of the North, so he had to be taken down as soon as possible before he could do any more damage. And on the Day of the Comet, you’re forgetting that it was an Agni Kai: Uncle Zuko was trying to kill her too.”

“And if what we’ve heard is true, _you_ were the one who told him to go and do it,” snaps Iyashi, all semblance of civility abandoned. “And you were also the one who nearly drowned Sifu when she was fourteen - I bet you don’t even remember kicking her off that ship - and you don’t have the excuse of being a child or being under orders.”

“I was protecting Zuko, as you would protect Prince Aziru if someone maneuvered him into a trap and attacked him.” Irritation is finally starting to show in Iroh’s voice. “Great-nephew, is there truly nothing I can do to change your mind? I was under the impression that you were open to a different perspective.”

Different perspectives are one thing. Trying to turn a loyal son against his mother is quite another. “I don’t think we’re going to see eye-to-eye no matter how much we talk, great-uncle.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Iroh says, and Aziru has to remind himself that the note of sorrow in his voice is feigned. “Your uncle will not be very happy to hear it either.”

Aziru shrugs. “Well, some people might think otherwise, but the world doesn’t revolve around my uncle’s happiness.”

Again, Iyashi snickers, and Iroh’s frown deepens. “You sound very much like your mother.”

“I didn’t expect such a nice compliment from you, great-uncle,” Aziru says brightly, though he knows full well that it hadn’t been meant that way at all. “Thank you very much.”

“You look very much like her as well, when she was your age,” he goes on, half to himself. “Except for those eyes...Yours are far brighter than hers.” Aziru wonders at the faint look of realization he thinks he sees on his great-uncle’s face. “Much more gold than amber. Rather like Zuko’s and Ozai’s, in fact.”

“Well, they are my uncle and grandfather,” Aziru reasons, trying to catch up with the man’s train of thought. “It makes sense that I’d resemble them a little. However much I want to, I can’t be a ,em>perfect copy of my mother, after all.”

“Mm, perhaps...” Iroh abruptly changes to a lighter, friendlier tone. “Tell me, Prince Aziru, how old are you, exactly? When is your birthday?”

Aziru narrows his eyes distrustfully. “I’m nine. Why do you want to know that all of a sudden...and shouldn’t you know already? You’re not interested in celebrating, are you?”

“No, no, I am merely interested in you, great-nephew. Don’t you want to know just how much younger or older you are than your cousins?”

He has exactly a second to deliberate before Iyashi answers for him. “No, we do not. I don’t know what you’re doing, but completely changing the subject on us and suddenly playing nice is suspicious as hell coming from you, old man. Don’t answer anything else he asks you, kid,” he adds to Aziru, who nods, and then he turns his glare back on Iroh. “We don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“He’s right,” Aziru confirms. “Sorry, great-uncle, but we don’t.”

Iroh doesn’t look quite as disappointed as Aziru had expected he would be. Rather, he seems contemplative. “Very well, Prince Aziru, we shall part ways here. But I implore you to think hard on the conversation we have had today, as I will.”

“I might,” Aziru answers flippantly as his great-uncle turns and leaves, flanked by his guards. _I will. But probably not the way you want me to. We’ll see._

When Iroh is completely out of sight, Iyashi makes a scandalized noise, like a cat whose tail has been stepped on. “Sifu was totally right about him! Do you know how close I was to spitting in his face for the way he was talking about her?! You know, I’m surprised _you_ didn’t lose it, kid. Remember when you set that one general’s robes on fire for calling her crazy?”

He grins at the memory. “Believe me, I wanted to. _Badly._ But it’s more important for me to make great-uncle think highly of me than you, since he’s going to tell Uncle Zuko and everyone else about talking with me, isn’t he?”

“I’ll bet. Know your enemy as yourself, see if they could use you against Sifu, and all that. They probably won’t care about me, but I wonder what they’ll make of you.”

“Yeah...I wonder. Hey, now that we’re done here, you want to go see if Miki wants to go out to the back fields with Raiden and Shin’yuu? They’ve both been having trouble with the hurdle training.”

“Sure. We’ll probably find her with Hashira,” Iyashi says as they start back down the hallway they’d come from. “We’ll just have to go the long way around, so we’re sure to stay out of Sifu’s way. Can’t be too careful.”

“Relax, Ash,” Aziru reassures him. “As long as we don’t mention anything, Mother will never find out about this.”

“I’ll never find out about what?”

Aziru’s heart just about stops, and immediately he is thrown to the floor with Iyashi’s body in front of his. He’s seen the older boy practice this move enough to know exactly what he’s doing: shielding Aziru from a potential threat while brandishing a flame dagger at said potential threat. But in the moment it takes him to twist around and get a good look at what’s going on, the flames go out and Iyashi sucks in a shocked breath. 

“S-S-Sifu! I-I’m so sorry, I just - !”

“Never mind, Iyashi,” Mother dismisses him, still leaning against a pillar. They’d walked _right past her_ and not seen her, Aziru realizes with a rush of embarrassment, how did they not see her? She’s far from angry at having her student nearly firebend at her - she looks more amused than anything. “I would be remiss if I were to punish you for acting on the the reflexes I instilled in you, though you did overreact slightly. I apologize for scaring you, but in all honesty I couldn’t resist.” She smiles the way he imagines a snake would at a mouse it’s about to eat. “So, tell me, boys, did you have fun slipping through the loophole I overlooked?”

A weight of dread settles in his stomach, and Aziru tries to find the words to apologize and explain himself, only to be beaten to it by his bodyguard, who bows his head and says, “I’m sorry, Sifu, it was my idea. I was curious and I wanted to see what your uncle was like, and I convinced Aziru to go along with it.”

Mother raises an eyebrow. “I see you’ll jump to protect Aziru in more ways than one. Very good, that’s more than I taught you.”

Iyashi’s head snaps back up. “No, really, Sifu! I - !”

“Drop it, Iyashi. I know you both too well to believe that. It was probably the other way around, wasn’t it?” Iyashi’s silence tells her all she needs to know. “That’s what I thought. Now, Aziru...” Her gaze turns down to him, and he stops trying to hide behind Iyashi and makes himself meet her eyes. “What did you think of your great-uncle, then? Did you get what you were looking for out of that conversation?”

She waits patiently while Aziru takes a few moments to get his thoughts together. “I think...Uncle and great-uncle and all the rest of our family...They think that they’re doing the right thing, don’t they? We’ll never be able to get them to see things our way, because they’re not just lying to make everybody follow them, they really do believe that they’re justified.”

“Yes, they do,” Mother agrees. “Self-centered people rarely think so badly of themselves, that they would even consider that they are the ones in the wrong.”

“And they wouldn’t listen if I tried to tell them what we’re really trying to do, or what kind of a person you really are,” he goes on. (“The old man wouldn’t listen when we did!” Iyashi puts in indignantly.) “That only makes them more dangerous, doesn’t it? Because they think that they’re the heroes, and that means it’s okay for them to hate us. Or hurt us. Right?”

Mother nods. “Sad, but true.”

Aziru clenches his fist as protective instinct, for his mother, his friends, and his people, flares inside him. “They think they do, but they’ve really got no excuse. I won’t let them get their way!”

Mother’s eyes gleam, and he gets the odd feeling that he’s just passed a test of some sort. “I would expect nothing less of you, my little dragon. And I was impressed by the way you conducted yourself around your great-uncle; your behavior will reflect well on both of us as well as define you to our other enemies. I’m proud of you,” she says, her smile broadening. Warmth surges through Aziru, chasing away all remaining traces of fear or doubt. This is what he is perpetually striving for, isn’t it: those words of sincere approval and that smile he would do anything for, asked of him or not.

She continues, turning to her other student. “That goes for you too, Iyashi. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised by how passionately you stuck up for me back there. It’s so good to know that I can rely on both of my boys to be loyal to me.”

Iyashi’s cheeks turn pink. “Well, I...I’m grateful to you, Sifu.”

“Wait...” Aziru says before Mother can answer. How did it take him this long to realize? “The only way you would know all about what we said...is if you followed us here and listened in.”

“Correct,” Mother confirms, amused again. “You were trying to be careful, but you both should know better than to think that you can hide anything from me.”

“Oh...How did you know, though?” Iyashi asks.

“Hashira noticed you slip into a passage, got suspicious, and notified me just to be on the safe side. So I decided to go and see what you were up to myself. But it honestly wasn’t difficult to guess what you were trying to do, or to make sure you didn’t realize I was following you. Really, I should be giving you more stealth training,” she notes.

While Iyashi nods assent, Aziru asks carefully, “It doesn’t seem like you’re angry, Mother, but...are we still in trouble?”

“Normally, you two would be in a _world_ of trouble for going behind my back,” she says in that too-light, too-cool voice that means someone’s about to get it, and both Aziru and Iyashi cringe. “But this seems to have been beneficial to all three of us, so just this once, I am prepared to forego incinerating you where you stand in favor of letting you off with a warning.”

Iyashi nods even more eagerly. “I like that option much better, Sifu.”

“I would be fairly disturbed if you didn’t. However, next time I will ensure that there are no loopholes for you to exploit, and if you decide to disobey me directly to do as you like, then you will pay dearly for it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mother!” Aziru says at the same time that Iyashi says, “Yes, Sifu!”

“Good boys,” she says, as if this settles the matter. “Now, if you still want to go and train with little Mikuru like you were talking about, you can find her in one of the indoor training courts, just finishing up with Hashira.”

“Thank you, Sifu, we’ll get going right now,” says Iyashi, but Aziru still has one more question for his mother. 

“Wait, Ash...Mother, great-uncle seemed really interested in how old I am and when my birthday is for some reason. And I think he thought it was weird that my eyes are a brighter gold than yours. Do you know why? I didn’t quite get it.”

Mother’s expression upon hearing this is blank, and he can’t tell at all what she might be thinking. The logical explanation is that she is just as puzzled as he is and is trying to figure her uncle’s words out, but something tells him that’s not quite it. Before he can hit upon the right answer, she tells him, “Don’t think too hard about it, Aziru. Iroh was probably trying to compare your age to Princess Izuna and Prince Shizen. If Izuna were even a few minutes older than you, then Zuko could use that to claim that she is the true heir on the grounds that she is eldest and it is her birthright.”

“He did mention them,” Aziru remembers. “How old _are_ they, though?” 

“As I’ve been told, Izuna is about a month older than you. Shizen is two years younger than the both of you. But neither of them matter,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re _Zuko’s_ brats. _You_ are the only one born of the legitimate Fire Lord, and the one true heir to the throne. That birthright is _yours,_ and yours alone. Never doubt that.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “But what about the eyes, why would be bring up my eyes? He said they were like Uncle’s and - “

“He probably wanted to see if comparing you to Zuko would set you off, and it didn’t. Don’t worry about it all that much. Is there anything else you wanted to ask about?”

“No...No, not right now,” Aziru decides. “We’ll see you at dinner, then?”

“Yes, and I’ll tell you how the negotiations went then, if you like. To be brief, it went about as well as I expected. We’re still at an impasse - he’s not going to see eye-to-eye with me, either. But that’s for later, you boys go on, now.” She turns and leaves (presumably back to whatever she was doing before Hashira told her what her son and student were up to), and Aziru and Iyashi start to make their way towards the training courts. 

And Aziru tells himself, as they go, that he is completely satisfied with what she has let him know. He has no reason at all to wonder. The final speck of lingering doubt inside him will, sooner or later, disappear. All he needs to do is trust in his mother. After all, he is perfectly safe in the knowledge that she would never do anything that was not for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I thought it was about time Aziru started to meet his family, so I hope you all enjoyed Grunkle Iroh. Next chapter: Azula summons Bill Cipher and makes a deal with him to kill Zuko and take over the world. (Wait, that’s terrifying, scratch that...)
> 
> One last thing: if you’re enjoying this story, you might want to go and check out Tales From The Dragon’s Den, a series of companion fics from other characters’ POV, not just Aziru’s. Stay tuned for chapter 3 of that if you want to see Zuko’s reaction to all this.


End file.
